NW 


•5? 


, 


." 


NAPOLEON 

AN  EXPLANATION  OF  HIS  THEORIES  OF 
GOVERNMENT;  AN  AVOWAL  OF 
THE  MOTIVES  THAT  ACTU- 
ATED HIS  PUBLIC  LIFE 


INTRODUCTION  BY 

ALVA    ADAMS 


1907 


THE  FRANKLIN  PRESS  COMPANY 
PUEBLO,  COLORADO 


INTRODUCTORY 


In  1816  copies  of  a  manuscript  of  startling 
character  were  delivered  in  a  mysterious  manner 
to  a  publisher  in  Paris,  and  to  John  Murray,  the 
noted  London  bookmaker.  This  manuscript  was 
written  in  the  first  person  and  purports  to  be  a  re- 
view of  Napoleon's  career  by  Napoleon.  It  is  a 
defense  of  his  acts  as  soldier  and  Emperor,  a  con- 
fession of  his  mistakes,  ah  exposition  of  his 
theories  of  government,  an  avowal  of  the  motives 
that  actuated  his  public  life.  It  is  an  explanation 
and  not  an  apology.  He  desired  that  his  words 
should  meet  the  eyes  of  the  world,  as  stated  in  the 
line  of  preface,  "I  have  at  heart  to  appear  as  I 
really  was,  both  in  the  eyes  of  my  son  and  in  those 
of  posterity."  Fear  of  confiscation  and  destruc- 
tion, should  it  fall  into  the  hands  of  Lord  Lowe,  or 
the  English  Ministry,  compelled  secrecy  in  writing 
and  transmitting. 

The  legend  is  that  a  trusted  aide  brought  the 
manuscript  from  St.  Helena  in  triplicate,  one  for 
England,  one  for  France  and  one  for  Joseph 
Bonaparte  at  Bordentown,  New  Jersey.  The  free 
criticism  by  the  author,  of  living  actors  in  the 
great  Napoleonic  drama  caused  the  arrest  and  im- 
prisonment of  the  French  publisher.  All  copies 


proven  that  he  suggested  their  form  and  matter 
and  corrected  them  with  his  own  hand.  Though 
dead  to  the  world,  the  dreams  that  came  to  him  at 
Elba  troubled  his  sleep  at  St.  Helena.  Across  the 
wide  sea  he  listened  for  the  cry  that  might  call  his 
son  or  himself  to  the  throne  of  France.  He  would 
remove  the  prejudice  of  English  hatred.  He  knew 
the  misrepresentation  and  calumny  that  falls 
upon  the  name  of  the  defeated  and  he  used  letters, 
books,  pamphlets  and  personal  agents  to  present 
his  career  to  the  world  in  his  light. 

Whether  the  reader  will  accept  my  confidence 
in  the  authenticity  of  this  manuscript,  he  must  ad- 
mit that  it  is  too  brilliant  a  piece  of  literature  to 
pass  into  oblivion  and  he  will  thank  me  for  re- 
publishing  it.  How  rare  it  may  be  I  am  not  ad- 
vised. I  have  never  seen  but  the  copy  I  own. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  many  others  but  it  is  not 
common  and  I  reprint  it  for  the  friends  who  are  in- 
terested in  Napoleon,  and  every  reader  of  books 
or  of  men  does  take  an  interest  in  this  most  spec- 
tacular and  dominant  figure.  History  records  no 
man  with  such  diversified  talents.  In  energy  and 
intellect  almost  superhuman,  his  egotism  was 
superb.  With  sublime  audacity  he  declared  that 
"the  spot  where  I  stand  is  the  most  important  on 
the  globe. ' '  He  believed  himself  the  greatest  man 
and  that  faith  went  far  to  make  him  so.  In  an 
able  man  self-confidence  is  better  than  a  diploma. 


Consistency  was  not  in  the  vocabulary  of  Na- 
poleon ;  he  ruled  others,  not  himself.  He  cherished 
the  sophistry  that  law  was  for  the  mass,  not  for 
genius,  and  being  a  genius  he  was  exempt  from 
the  ordinances  of  God  or  man.  So  Olympian,  so 
magnificent  were  his  schemes,  that  the  allies  called 
him  crazy,  his  friends  inspired.  He  was  action  in- 
carnate ;  in  his  battles,  plan  and  execution  were  al- 
most simultaneous ;  his  blows  fell  before  the  enemy 
could  fathom  his  intentions.  His  campaign  meth- 
ods were  not  classic ;  he  drew  new  plans  upon  the 
trestle-board  of  war.  He  knew  the  golden  value  of 
an  hour.  Time  and  system  were  his  weapons. 
With  them  he  won  his  battles.  When  he  forgot  or 
neglected  these  disaster  came.  The  tireless, 
sleepless  activity  of  his  earlier  victories  would 
have  made  Waterloo  the  type  of  victory,  not  as 
now  of  defeat.  His  few  years  were  crowded  with 
glory  and  crime,  achievement  and  catastrophe. 
Nations  became  his  pawns;  he  scattered  crowns 
with  profligate  hand;  he  put  new  kings  upon  old 
thrones.  No  king  slept  while  Napoleon  was  free. 
He  swept  through  two  decades  of  history,  his 
pathway  a  political,  moral  and  intellectual  con- 
flagration. He  shattered  the  "divine  right  of 
kings"  superstition,  made  a  jest  of  royal  legit- 
imacy and  founded  a  dynasty  upon  the  sword. 
Brief  as  was  his  reign  it  was  long  enough  to 
break  up  the  kingly  stagnation  and  tyranny  of 
centuries.  With  cyclonic  intensity  he  swept  away 


the  petrified  barriers  to  progress  and  achieved 
more  for  the  race  than  the  800  years  of  the  Haps- 
burgs  or  the  600  years  of  Bourbon  rule.  The  re- 
sult of  his  career  gives  color  to  the  title,  "The 
greatest  democrat,"  bestowed  by  Emerson  upon 
Napoleon.  Self  dominated  his  life,  yet  though 
imperialist  and  king  that  he  was,  his  blows  were 
against  the  enemies  of  the  people.  With  the  ham- 
mer of  a  despot  he  broke  up  the  feudalism  of  a 
thousand  years  and  gave  liberty  a  chance  to 
breathe  and  to  live.  After  the  peace  of  Amiens — 
certainly  after  the  compact  at  Tilsit— was  the 
hour  for  patriotic  reflection.  It  was  the  hour  to 
turn  from  war  to  peace.  Instead  unrest,  selfish 
ambition  carried  him  to  Moscow  and  to  Elba.  In- 
flated with  his  own  omnipotence  there  was  no  haz- 
ard he  would  not  risk.  He  must  have  no  equals. 
He  would  divide  the  world  with  no  one.  Had  he 
possessed  the  strain  of  unselfish  devotion  to  coun- 
try that  characterized  Washington,  the  genera- 
tions would  have  paid  homage  to  his  greatness. 
The  world's  judgment  concedes  to  Napoleon 
genius,  but  not  character.  To  him  truth  was  a 
means,  not  an  end,  diplomacy  a  battle  of  deceit. 
Virtue  was  for  his  neighbors.  Without  morals  he 
preached  morality,  public  and  private.  Lacking 
personal  integrity  he  exacted  the  strictest  honesty 
from  others.  His  own  home  polluted,  he  legis- 
lated and  plead  for  the  sanctity  of  the  home.  Re- 


ligion  was  to  him  a  policy,  not  a  conviction. 
Neither  intolerant  nor  superstitious,  he  had  no 
reverence  for  priests,  no  fear  of  God.  In  his  pan- 
theon there  was  but  one  deity — himself.  The  para- 
dox of  the  centuries,  yet  no  character  in  profane 
history  grasps  the  imagination  like  Napoleon. 

ALVA  ADAMS. 
Pueblo,  Colo.,  Oct.  1,  1907. 


MANUSCRIPT 


TRANSMITTED    FROM 


ST.    HELENA, 


BY 


AN  UNKNOWN  CHANNEL 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THIS  Work,  which  is  equally  distinguished  by 
its  spirit  and  its  ingenuity,  was  given  to  the  Pub- 
lisher, with  an  assurance  of  its  being  brought  from 
St.  Helena,  though  an  air  of  mystery  was  affected- 
ly thrown  round  the  mode  of  its  conveyance. 

Whether  it  be  really  written  by  Buonaparte,  or 
by  some  confidential  friend,  is  a  matter  that  must 
be  left  entirely  to  conjecture.  It  bears  some  resem- 
blance to  his  style,  more  to  his  manner,  and  is  al- 
together just  what  the  ostensible  Author,  or  an 
able  apologist  under  his  name,  might  be  expected 
to  say  of  his  opinions,  motives,  and  actions. 


MANUSCRIPT, 


&c. 


I  do  not  write  commentaries :  the  events  of  my 
reign  are  sufficiently  known,  and  I  am  not  obliged 
to  feed  the  curiosity  of  the  public.  I  give  a  sketch 
of  those  events,  because  my  character  and  my  in- 
tentions may  be  strangely  disfigured,  and  I  have 
at  heart  to  appear  such  as  I  really  was,  both  in 
the  eyes  of  my  son  and  in  those  of  posterity. 

This  is  the  object  of  this  tract.  I  am  forced 
to  make  use  of  an  indirect  channel  in  publishing  it. 
For  if  it  were  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English 
ministry,  I  know  by  experience,  that  it  would  re- 
main buried  in  an  office. 


My  life  has  been  so  extraordinary,  that  the  ad- 
mirers of  my  power  imagined  that  even  my  child- 
hood must  have  been  uncommon.  But  they  are 
mistaken.  There  was  nothing  singular  in  my  early 
life.  I  was  only  an  obstinate  and  inquisitive  child. 
My  first  education  was  contemptible,  like  every 
thing  in  Corsica.  I  learned  French  easily  enough 
from  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  with  whom  I 
passed  my  time. 

I  succeeded  in  what  I  undertook,  because  I 
chose  it :  my  desires  were  strong,  and  my  character 
decided.  I  never  hestitated :  this  gave  me  the  ad- 
vantage over  every  body.  The  will  depends  indeed 
on  the  temper  of  the  individual ;  it  is  not  the  priv- 
ilege of  every  man  to  be  master  at  home. 

My  understanding  led  me  to  detest  impositions. 
I  always  discerned  truth  at  once,  and,  for  that  rea- 
son, I  always  saw  better  than  others  to  the  bottom 
of  things.  The  world  was  to  me  always  in  fact, 
never  in  right.  I  scarcely  resembled  any  man. 
My  very  nature  was  always  isolated. 

I  never  discovered  that  study  could  be  of  any 
use  to  me ;  in  fact  it  did  nothing  for  me  but  teach 
me  means.  Mathematics  alone  ever  availed  me. 
The  rest  was  lost  time.  I  studied,  however,  from 
vanity. 

My   intellectual    faculties,    nevertheless,    took 


their  bent  without  my  assistance.  They  proceed 
from  a  great  degree  of  mobility  in  the  fibres  of  my 
brain.  I  thought  faster  than  others,  so  that  I  had 
always  time  to  reflect.  And  my  depth  of  thought 
consisted  in  this. 

My  mind  was  too  active  to  allow  me  to  be 
amused  with  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  youth.  I 
was  not  indeed  quite  ignorant  of  them;  but  I 
sought  interest  elsewhere.  This  disposition  placed 
me  in  a  kind  of  solitude,  where  I  met  nothing  but 
my  own  thoughts.  And  this  kind  of  existence  be- 
came habitual  in  every  situation. 

I  loved  to  solve  problems :  I  sought  them  in  the 
mathematics,  but  I  was  soon  satisfied,  for  the  order 
of  matter  is  extremely  bounded.  I  then  sought 
them  in  moral  order,  and  it  is  the  pursuit  in  which 
I  have  best  succeeded.  This  species  of  search  ha-3 
become  habitual :  to  it  I  owe  the  great  steps  I  took 
in  politics  and  war. 

My  birth  destined  me  to  the  service,  and  I  was 
therefore  sent  to  the  military  college.  I  obtained 
a  lieutenant's  commission  at  the  beginning  of  the 
revolution.  I  never  received  any  rank  with  so 
much  delight  as  that.  The  height  of  my  ambition 
was  then  confined  to  wearing  one  day  a  bullion 
epaulette  on  each  shoulder:  a  colonel  of  artillery 
seemed  to  me  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  human  grandeur. 

I  was  then  too  young  to  take  any  interest  in 


politics.  I  was  no  judge  of  man  in  general,  neither 
was  I  surprised  or  alarmed  at  the  disorder  that 
then  reigned,  because  I  could  not  compare  it  with 
any  other  period.  I  accommodated  myself  to  cir- 
cumstances. I  was  not  yet  difficult. 

I  was  employed  in  the  army  of  the  Alps.  It 
did  nothing  that  an  army  should  do.  It  was  ignor- 
ant both  of  war  and  discipline.  I  was  at  a  bad 
school.  It  is  true  we  had  no  enemies  to  fight ;  our 
only  duty  was  to  prevent  the  Piedmontese  from 
passing  the  Alps,  and  nothing  was  so  easy. 

Anarchy  reigned  in  our  cantonments;  the 
soldiers  had  no  respect  for  the  officers,  the  officers 
scarcely  obeyed  the  generals,  and  these  were  every 
day  changed  or  checked  by  the  representatives  of 
the  people:  the  army  only  acknowledged  in  these 
last  the  idea  of  power,  the  strongest  hold  over  the 
human  mind.  I  then  perceived  the  danger  of  civil 
influence  in  military  affairs,  and  I  have  always 
guarded  against  it. 

It  was  not  talent,  but  loquacity,  which  gained 
credit  in  the  army;  all  depended  on  that  popular 
favour  which  is  obtained  by  vociferation. 

I  never  had  that  community  of  sentiment  with 
the  vulgar  which  produces  field  eloquence.  I 
never  had  the  talent  of  moving  the  people ;  so  that 
I  played  no  part  at  that  time  in  the  army;  but  I 
had  the  more  time  for  reflection. 


I  studied  war;  not  on  paper,  but  in  the  field. 
I  saw  fire  for  the  first  time  in  a  slight  affair  of 
rifle  corps  near  Mont  Genevre.  The  balls  were  not 
thick ;  they  wounded  but  few  of  our  people.  I  felt 
no  kind  of  emotion ;  it  was  not  worth  while ;  I  at- 
tended to  the  action.  It  appeared  evident  to  me 
that  neither  side  had  the  least  intention  of  effect- 
ing any  thing  by  their  fire;  they  merely  shot  at 
each  other  for  conscience  sake,  and  because  it  is 
customary  to  do  so  in  war.  This  want  of  object 
vexed  me ;  resistance  put  me  out  of  humour ;  I  ob- 
served our  ground;  I  took  a  musket  from  a 
wounded  man,  and  prevailed  on  a  good-natured 
captain,  who  commanded,  to  keep  up  his  fire  while 
I  should  go,  with  ten  or  twelve  men,  to  cut  off  the 
Piedmontese. 

It  appeared  to  me  to  be  very  easy  to  gain  a 
height  which  commanded  their  position,  by  cross- 
ing a  grove  of  fir  trees,  on  which  our  left  was  sus- 
tained. Our  captain  rallied;  the  company  gained 
ground;  they  drove  the  enemy  towards  us;  and, 
as  soon  as  he  began  to  break  up,  I  brought  for- 
ward my  men.  Our  fire  hampered  his  retreat ;  we 
killed  a  few,  and  took  twenty  prisoners;  the  rest 
made  their  escape. 

I  give  an  account  of  my  first  trial  of  arms,  not 
because  it  gave  me  the  rank  of  captain,  but  because 
it  initiated  me  into  the  secrets  of  war.  I  perceived 


that  it  was  easier  than  is  commonly  believed  to 
beat  an  enemy,  and  that  the  great  art  lies  in  not 
wavering  during  action,  and  above  all  in  not  mak- 
ing any  but  decisive  movements,  because  it  is  thus 
that  the  soldier  is  carried  along. 

I  had  gained  my  spurs ;  I  fancied  I  had  exper- 
ience and  from  that  time  I  felt  a  decided  taste  for 
a  profession  in  which  I  succeeded  so  well.  I 
thought  of  nothing  else,  and  I  set  about  solving  all 
the  problems  which  a  field  of  battle  can  offer.  I 
would  fain  have  studied  war  in  books,  but  I  pos- 
sessed none.  I  endeavoured  to  recollect  the  small 
portion  of  history  that  I  had  read,  and  I  com- 
pared these  accounts  with  the  facts  before  my 
eyes.  I  thus  formed  a  theory  concerning  war 
which  time  has  developed,  but  never  disproved. 

I  led  this  insignificant  life  till  the  siege  of  Tou- 
lon. I  then  had  the  command  of  a  battalion,  and 
in  that  command  might  have  some  influence  on  the 
success  of  the  siege. 

Never  was  army  so  ill  conducted  as  ours.  No 
one  knew  who  commanded.  The  generals  dared 
not,  for  fear  of  the  Representatives  of  the  People, 
and  these  were  still  more  frightened  at  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety.  The  commissaries  plun- 
dered, the  officers  drank,  the  soldiers  were  starv- 
ing— but  they  were  careless  and  brave.  This  very 
disorder  inspired  more  courage  than  discipline; 


and  I  became  satisfied  that  mechanical  armies  are 
good  for  nothing.  They  have  proved  so. 

All  was  done  in  our  camp  by  motions  and  ac- 
clamations. This  way  of  going  on  was  insupport- 
able to  me,  but  I  could  not  prevent  it,  so  I  pursued 
my  own  plans  without  taking  notice  of  it. 

I  was  perhaps  the  only  man  in  the  army  who 
had  a  plan ;  but  it  was  my  humour  to  have  an  end 
in  every  thing.  I  employed  myself  in  examining 
the  enemy's  position  and  our  own;  I  compared  his 
moral  means  with  ours;  I  saw  that  here  we  had 
every  thing,  and  he  nothing.  His  expedition  was 
a  miserable  scheme,  the  catastrophe  of  which  he 
must  have  foreseen :  and  he  must  be  weak  indeed, 
who  foresees  his  own  discomfiture. 

I  sought  the  best  points  of  attack ;  I  calculated 
the  range  of  our  batteries,  and  I  pointed  out  the 
proper  positions.  The  experienced  officers  thought 
them  too  dangerous,  but  battles  are  not  won  by 
experience.  I  persisted;  I  shewed  my  plan  to 
Barras ;  he  had  been  a  sailor :  these  brave  men  un- 
derstand nothing  of  war,  but  they  are  intrepid. 
Barras  approved,  because  he  wished  to  finish  the 
business.  Besides,  the  Convention  was  not  to  call 
him  to  account  for  arms  and  legs,  but  for  his  suc- 
cess. 

My  artillerymen  were  brave  and  inexperienced 
—the  best  of  all  possible  men  for  soldiers.  Our  at- 


8 

tacks  succeeded;  the  enemy  were  frightened,  they 
dared  not  attempt  any  thing  against  us.  They 
stupidly  sent  balls  which  fell  as  chance  directed, 
and  did  no  execution.  I  was  zealous,  because  I  ex- 
pected promotion;  but  I  also  liked  success  for  its 
own  sake.  I  passed  my  time  in  the  batteries — I 
slept  in  the  trenches.  Nothing  is  well  done  that 
one  does  not  do  one's  self.  We  learnt  from  the 
prisoners  that  all  was  going  to  ruin  in  the  place. 
At  length  it  was  evacuated  in  a  shameful  manner. 

We  had  merited  well  of  our  country.  I  was 
made  brigadier-general.  I  was  employed,  de- 
nounced, cashiered,  balloted  for,  by  faction  and 
intrigue.  I  conceived  a  decided  horror  for  the 
anarchy  that  was  then  at  its  height,  and  I  never 
became  reconciled  to  it.  This  murderous  govern- 
ment was  the  more  detestable  to  me  as  it  was  ab- 
surd and  self-destructive.  It  was  a  perpetual 
revolution,  the  very  leaders  of  which  never  seemed 
to  think  of  any  permanent  establishment. 

A  general,  but  without  employment,  I  went  to 
Paris  because  it  was  the  only  place  where  I  could 
get  any  thing.  I  attached  myself  to  Barras,  be- 
cause he  was  the  only  man  I  knew.  Robespierre 
was  dead:  Barras  played  an  active  part:  I  was 
forced  to  attach  myself  to  some  one,  and  to  some 
thing. 

The  affair  of  the  sections  was  coming  on:  I 


took  little  interest  in  it,  because  I  cared  less  for 
politics  than  war.  I  did  not  think  of  being  an 
actor  in  the  scene;  but  Barras  proposed  to  me  to 
take  the  command  of  the  force  armed  against  the 
insurgents,  under  him.  As  a  general,  I  rather  pre- 
ferred being  at  the  head  of  the  troops  to  fighting  in 
the  ranks  for  the  sections,  where  I  had  no  business. 

We  had  only  a  handful  of  men  and  two  four- 
pounders  to  defend  the  riding-house.  A  column 
from  the  sections  came  to  attack  us,  to  its  cost.  I 
fired  my  field  pieces ;  the  sectionaries  fled ;  I  pur- 
sued ;  they  threw  themselves  upon  the  steps  of  St. 
Koque.  The  street  was  so  narrow  that  we  could 
only  bring  forward  one  of  our  pieces,  with  which 
we  fired  upon  the  mob ;  a  few  were  killed ;  the  rest 
dispersed :  and  the  whole  was  over  in  ten  minutes. 

This  event,  trifling  in  itself,  produced  import- 
ant consequences ;  it  prevented  the  revolution  from 
a  retrograde  movement.  I  naturally  attached  my- 
self to  the  party  for  which  I  had  fought,  and  I 
thus  found  myself  bound  to  the  revolutionary 
cause.  I  began  to  fathom  it,  and  was  convinced 
that  it  would  be  victorious :  it  was  in  possession  of 
opinion,  numbers,  and  boldness. 

The  affair  of  the  sections  made  me  a  general 
of  division,  and  gave  me  a  kind  of  celebrity.  As 
the  victorious  party  trembled  for  their  triumph, 
they  kept  me  at  Paris  against  my  wishes ;  for  my 


10 

only  ambition  was  to  engage  in  war  in  my  new 
rank. 

I  remained  then  idle  in  Paris.  I  had  no  con- 
nections there;  I  had  no  habitual  society;  that  of 
Barras  was  the  only  one  I  frequented,  and  there  I 
was  well  received.  It  was  there  I  first  saw  my 
wife,  who  has  had  a  great  influence  on  my  life,  and 
whose  memory  will  be  for  ever  dear  to  me. 

I  was  not  insensible  to  the  charms  of  women, 
but  to  that  period  I  had  not  been  spoiled  by  them ; 
and  my  character  made  me  shy  of  them.  Mad.  de 
Beauharnais  was  the  first  who  encouraged  me.  She 
said  some  flattering  things  on  my  military  talents 
one  day  when  I  was  sitting  by  her.  Her  praises 
intoxicated  me :  I  talked  to  her  continually ;  I  fol- 
lowed her  every  where ;  I  was  passionately  in  love 
with  her ;  and  all  our  society  had  perceived  it  long 
before  I  dared  to  tell  her  so. 

My  sentiments  were  talked  of;  Barras  taxed 
me  with  them.  I  could  have  no  reasons  for  deny- 
ing them.  "In  that  case,"  said  he,  "you  must 
"marry  Mad.  de  Beauharnais.  You  have  your 
"rank  and  talents  to  make  the  most  of;  but  you 
"are  insulated,  without  fortune  and  without  con- 
"nections:  you  must  marry;  it  gives  consequence. 
"Mad.  de  Beauharnais  is  agreeable  and  intelli- 
gent, but  she  is  a  widow.  Her  situation  has  now 
"no  advantages :  women  no  longer  act  a  part ;  they 


11 

' '  must  marry  to  have  any  influence :  you  have  reso- 
' '  lution ;  you  will  make  your  way ;  you  suit  her. 
"Will  you  entrust  me  to  negociate  for  you?" 

I  awaited  her  answer  with  anxiety:  it  was  fa- 
vourable: Mad.  de  Beauharnais  granted  me  her 
hand;  and  if  I  have  experienced  any  moments  of 
happiness  in  my  life,  it  is  to  her  I  owe  them. 

My  station  in  the  world  changed  after  my  mar- 
riage. Under  the  directory  a  sort  of  social  order, 
in  which  I  had  gained  a  tolerably  elevated  rank, 
had  been  re-established.  Ambition  in  me  had  be- 
come rational ;  I  might  aspire  to  any  thing. 

As  to  ambition,  I  had  none  but  to  be  made  a 
commander  in  chief;  for  a  man  is  nothing  unless 
he  has  a  military  reputation  before  him.  I 
thought  myself  certain  of  acquiring  one,  for  I  felt 
an  instinctive  talent  for  war;  but  I  had  no  pre- 
tences on  which  to  found  such  a  claim.  I  was  ob- 
liged to  make  some:  in  those  times  there  was  no 
difficulty. 

The  army  of  Italy  was  a  mere  skeleton,  for  it 
had  not  been  employed.  I  suggested  to  send  it  to 
attack  Austria  in  the  point  where  she  was  most  se- 
cure ;  that  is  to  say,  in  Italy. 

The  Directory  was  at  peace  with  Russia  and 
Spain.  But  Austria  in  the  pay  of  England  had 
strengthened  her  army,  and  kept  us  in  check  on 
the  Rhine.  It  was  clear  that  we  ought  to  make 


12 

a  diversion  in  Italy;  to  alarm  Austria;  to  give  a 
lesson  to  the  petty  princes  of  Italy  who  were 
leagued  against  us;  in  short,  to  give  a  decided 
colour  to  the  war,  which  it  had  hitherto  wanted. 

This  plan  was  so  simple,  it  suited  the  Directory 
so  well  because  it  wanted  success  to  keep  up  its 
credit,  that  I  made  haste  to  present  it,  lest  it  should 
be  forestalled.  It  met  with  no  opposition,  and  I 
was  named  commander  in  chief  of  the  army  of 
Italy. 

I  set  out  to  join  it.  It  had  been  reinforced 
from  the  army  of  Spain,  and  I  found  it  fifty  thou- 
sand strong,  destitute  of  every  thing  but  good  will. 
I  was  to  try  it.  A  very  few  days  after  my  arrival, 
I  ordered  a  general  movement  throughout  the  line. 
It  extended  from  Nice  to  Savona.  It  was  at  the 
beginning  of  April,  1796. 

In  three  days  we  carried  all  the  Austro-Sar- 
dinian  posts  which  defended  the  heights  of  Liguria. 
The  enemy  being  briskly  attacked,  concentrated  his 
forces.  We  met  him  on  the  10th  at  Montenolle ;  he 
was  beaten.  On  the  14th  we  attacked  him  at 
Millesimo,  he  was  beaten  again,  and  we  separated 
the  Austrians  from  the  Piedmontese.  These  last 
took  up  a  position  at  Mondovi,  whilst  the  Austrians 
retired  on  the  Po,  to  cover  Lombardy. 

I  beat  the  Piedmontese;  in  three  days  I  seized 
every  position  in  Piedmont,  and  we  were  within 


13 

nine  leagues  of  Turin,  when  I  received  an  aide-de- 
camp, who  came  to  sue  for  peace. 

I  then,  for  the  first  time,  looked  on  myself  not 
merely  as  a  general,  but  as  a  man  called  upon  to 
influence  the  fate  of  nations.  I  saw  that  I  had  a 
place  in  history. 

This  peace  changed  my  plans.  I  no  longer  con- 
fined my  views  to  making  war  in  Italy,  but  re- 
solved to  conquer  it.  I  felt  that  by  enlarging  the 
ground  of  the  revolution,  I  gave  a  more  solid  base 
to  its  superstructure.  It  was  the  best  means  of 
securing  its  success. 

The  court  of  Piedmont  had  given  up  all  its 
strong  places  to  us.  It  had  put  the  country  into 
our  hands:  we  were  masters  beyond  the  Alps 
and  Appenine.  We  were  sure  of  our  points  of 
strength,  and  tranquil  concerning  a  retreat 

From  this  fine  position  I  attacked  the  Aus- 
trians.  I  crossed  the  Po  at  Plaisance,  and  the 
Adda  at  Lodi:  it  was  not  without  difficulty;  but 
Beaulieu  retired,  and  I  entered  Milan. 

The  Austrians  made  incredible  efforts  to  re- 
cover Italy.  I  was  obliged  to  beat  their  armies  five 
times  before  I  succeeded. 

Once  master  of  Italy,  it  was  necessary  to  estab- 
lish the  revolutionary  system  in  order  to  unite  the 
country  to  France  by  common  principles  and  com- 
mon interests; — that  is  to  say,  that  it  was  neces- 


14 

sary  to  destroy  the  ancient  system  of  ranks  and 
establish  equality ;  because  it  is  the  main  spring  of 
the  revolution.  I  foresaw  that  I  should  have  the 
clergy,  the  nobility,  and  their  dependants  against 
me;  that  they  would  resist  stoutly,— but  I  resolved 
to  overcome  them  by  arms,  and  not  to  stir  the  peo- 
ple. 

I  had  done  great  things,  but  it  was  necessary  to 
assume  a  corresponding  tone  and  attitude.  The 
revolution  had  destroyed  every  species  of  dignity ; 
I  could  not  give  back  to  France  the  pomp  of  roy- 
alty: I  gave  her  the  lustre  of  victory,  and  the 
language  of  a  victor. 

I  resolved  to  become  the  protector  of  Italy,  and 
not  her  conquerer.  I  succeeded  by  maintaining 
the  discipline  of  the  army,  by  punishing  revolt  se- 
verely ;  but  above  all,  by  the  establishment  of  the 
Cisalpine  republic.  By  that  institution  I  satisfied 
the  avowed  wish  of  the  Italians — to  be  indepen- 
dent. I  held  out  great  hopes  to  them :  it  depended 
on  themselves  to  realise  them  by  embracing  our 
cause.  They  were  allies  I  was  procuring  for 
France. 

This  alliance  will  last  long  between  the  two  peo- 
ples, because  it  is  founded  on  common  interests 
and  common  services :  they  had  the  same  opinions 
and  the  same  springs  of  action.  Without  me  they 
would  have  kept  up  their  old  enmity.  Sure  of 


15 

Italy,  I  scrupled  not  to  venture  into  the  very  heart 
of  Austria.  I  arrived  in  sight  of  Vienna,  and  I 
signed  the  treaty  of  Campo  Fonnio.  It  was  a 
glorious  act  for  France. 

The  party  I  had  countenanced  on  the  18 
Fructidor  had  remained  master  of  the  republic. 
I  had  favoured  it  because  it  was  mine,  and  be- 
cause it  was  the  only  one  calculated  to  push  on  the 
revolution.  Now,  the  more  I  had  taken  part  in 
public  affairs  the  more  I  was  convinced  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  accomplishing  the  revolution,  because 
it  was  the  fruit  of  public  opinion  and  of  the  age: 
every  thing  that  retarded  its  progress  prolonged 
the  crisis. 

Peace  was  made  on  the  continent ;  we  were  only 
at  war  with  England,  and  for  want  of  a  field  of 
battle  we  were  inactive.  I  was  conscious  of  my 
powers :  they  were  of  a  nature  to  distinguish  me, 
but  they  were  unemployed.  I  knew,  however,  that 
in  order  to  remain  in  sight  I  must  fix  attention, 
and  the  only  means  of  doing  so  was  by  extraor- 
dinary undertakings ;  because  men  are  grateful  for 
excitation.  In  consequence  of  this  opinion  I  un- 
dertook the  expedition  to  Egypt.  It  was  attributed 
to  profound  speculations  on  my  part :  but  I  had  no 
other  motive  than  not  to  remain  idle  after  the 
peace  I  had  just  concluded. 

This  expedition  would  give  a  high  idea  of  the 


16 

power  of  France;  it  would  fix  attention  on  its 
commander ;  it  would  surprise  Europe  by  its  bold- 
ness. These  were  more  than  sufficient  motives  for 
the  undertaking ;  but  I  had  not  then  the  slightest 
wish  to  dethrone  the  Grand  Turk,  or  even  to  make 
myself  a  Pasha. 

I  prepared  for  my  departure  in  profound  sil- 
ence :  it  was  necessary  to  our  success,  and  added  to 
the  singular  character  of  the  expedition. 

The  fleet  set  sail.  I  was  obliged  to  destroy 
that  nest  of  nobility  at  Malta*,  as  I  passed,  be- 
cause it  served  nobody  but  the  English.  I  was 
afraid  lest  some  old  leaven  of  honour  might  have 
tempted  these  knights  to  defend  themselves  and 
retard  me;  fortunately  they  surrendered  even 
more  ignominiously  than  I  had  hoped  for. 

The  battle  of  Aboukir  destroyed  the  fleet,  and 
delivered  up  the  sea  to  the  English.  From  that 
moment  I  anticipated  the  catastrophe  of  the  expe- 
dition : — for  every  army  which  cannot  be  recruited 
must  sooner  or  later  capitulate. 

Meantime  we  were  forced  to  remain  in  Egypt, 
for  we  had  no  means  of  leaving  it.  I  resolved  to 
put  a  good  face  upon  a  losing  game.  I  succeeded 
tolerably. 

I  had  a  fine  army :  it  required  occupation,  and 

*It  is  not  possible  to  do  justice  to  the  original  expression 
Cette  gentilhomiere  de  Malte. — T 


17 

I  finished  the  conquest  of  Egypt  to  fill  up  the  time. 
By  that  means  I  opened  to  science  the  fairest  field 
she  ever  explored. 

Our  soldiers  indeed  were  a  little  surprised  at 
finding  themselves  in  the  freehold  of  Sesostris; 
but  they  took  it  very  well,  and  it  was  so  singular 
to  see  a  Frenchman  among  such  ruins,  that  they 
themselves  were  diverted  at  it. 

Having  nothing  more  to  do  in  Egypt,  I 
thought  it  would  be  interesting  to  go  to  Palestine, 
and  attempt  to  conquer  it.  This  expedition  had  a 
romantic  air ;  I  allowed  myself  to  be  seduced  by  it ; 
but  I  was  ill  informed  with  regard  to  the  obstacles 
I  was  to  meet,  and  I  did  not  take  troops  enough 
with  me. 

Having  passed  the  desert,  I  learned  that  forces 
had  been  assembled  at  St.  Jean  d'Acre;  I  could 
not  despise  them;  I  was  forced  to  march  thither. 
The  place  was  defended  by  a  French  engineer.  I 
perceived  it  by  the  resistance  it  made.  I  was  ob- 
liged to  raise  the  siege :  the  retreat  was  disastrous. 
For  the  first  time  I  had  to  encounter  the  opposing 
elements ;  but  we  were  not  overcome. 

On  my  return  to  Egypt,  I  received  the  public 
journals  by  way  of  Tunis.  From  them  I  learned 
the  deplorable  state  of  France,  the  disgrace  of  the 
directory,  and  the  success  of  the  coalition.  I 
thought  I  might  serve  my  country  a  second  time. 


18 

No  motive  now  detained  me  in  Egypt:  the  enter- 
prise was  at  an  end.  Any  general  was  competent 
to  sign  a  capitulation  which  time  would  render  in- 
evitable, and  I  set  out  without  any  farther  design 
than  that  of  re-appearing  at  the  head  of  the  armies 
to  lead  them  back  to  victory. 

On  landing  at  Frejus,  my  presence  excited  en- 
thusiasm in  the  people.  My  military  glory  reani- 
mated those  who  had  been  beaten.  The  roads  were 
crowded  as  I  passed:  my  journey  had  the  air  of  a 
triumph,  and  on  my  arrival  at  Paris  I  found  that 
I  was  all-powerful  in  France. 

I  found  the  government  in  a  state  of  anarchy; 
its  imbecility  had  brought  it  within  an  ace  of  its 
ruin.  Every  one  was  for  saving  his  country,  and 
every  one  proposed  his  plan.  All  these  various 
schemes  were  confided  to  me ;  I  was  the  pivot  upon 
which  every  coalition  turned ;  but  there  was  not  a 
single  head  capable  of  conducting  any  fixed  plan. 
They  all  relied  on  me,  because  they  all  required 
the  sword.  I  relied  on  nobody,  and  I  was  free  to 
choose  the  plan  which  best  suited  my  own. 

Fortune  semed  ready  to  place  me  at  the  head 
of  the  state.  I  prepared  to  be  master  of  the  revo- 
lution, for  I  did  not  choose  to  be  only  its  chief: 
that  part  would  not  have  suited  me.  I  was  then 
called  upon  to  prepare  the  future  fate  of  France, — 
perhaps  that  of  the  world. 


19 

But  it  was  necessary  first  to  make  war ;  to  make 
peace ;  to  put  down  faction ;  to  found  my  authority. 
It  was  necessary  to  put  the  huge  machine,  called 
government,  in  motion.  I  knew  the  weight  of  the 
resistance,  and  should  then  have  preferred  the 
single  trade  of  war;  for  I  loved  the  authority  of 
head  quarters  and  the  emotion  of  the  field  of  bat- 
tle. In  short,  at  that  moment  I  felt  more  disposed 
to  restore  the  military  superiority  of  France  than 
to  govern  it. 

But  I  had  no  choice  in  my  destiny.  I  easily  per- 
ceived that  the  reign  of  the  Directory  was  near  its 
end ;  that  some  imposing  authority  must  be  put  in 
its  place,  in  order  to  save  the  state;  that  there  is 
nothing  truly  imposing  but  military  glory.  The 
Directory  could  then  only  be  succeeded  by  me,  or 
by  a  state  of  anarchy.  The  choice  of  France  was 
not  doubtful.  On  this  head  public  opinion  en- 
lightened my  own. 

I  proposed  to  supply  the  place  of  the  Directory 
by  a  consulship ;  so  far  was  I  from  conceiving  the 
idea  of  assuming  the  sovereign  power.  The  re- 
publicans proposed  to  elect  two  consuls;  I  de- 
manded a  third,  because  I  did  not  choose  an  equal. 
The  first  place  in  this  triumvirate  was  justly  my 
due ;  it  was  all  I  aimed  at. 

My  proposal  was  received  by  the  republicans 
with  distrust.  They  already  perceived  a  dictator 


20 

among  the  triumviri;  they  combined  against  me. 
Even  the  presence  of  Sieyes  could  not  pacify 
them.  He  had  taken  upon  him  to  draw  up  a  con- 
stitution ;  but  the  Jacobins  felt  more  terror  at  my 
sword  than  confidence  in  the  pen  of  their  old 
Abbe. 

All  parties  were  now  ranged  under  two  ban- 
ners: on  one  side  were  the  republicans  who  op- 
posed my  elevation,  and  on  the  other  all  France 
demanding  it.  It  was  therefore  inevitable  at  that 
period,  because  the  majority  always  ends  by  suc- 
ceeding. The  first  had  established  their  head- 
quarters in  the  council  of  Five  Hundred;  they 
made  a  resolute  defence;  we  were  obliged  to  win 
the  battle  of  St.  Cloud  to  bring  about  this  revo- 
lution. At  one  time  I  thought  it  would  have  been 
carried  by  acclamation. 

The  wishes  of  the  public  had  given  me  the  first 
place  in  the  state:  the  resistance  they  had  met 
with  did  not  alarm  me,  because  it  proceeded  from 
persons  blasted  in  the  opinion  of  that  public.  The 
royalists  had  not  appeared;  they  had  been  taken 
by  surprise.  The  body  of  the  people  had  con- 
fidence in  me,  because  they  knew  that  the  revolu- 
tion could  not  have  better  security  than  mine.  I 
derived  my  strength  solely  from  being  at  the  head 
of  the  interests  created  by  that  revolution,  since, 


21 

had  I  forced  it  backwards,  I  should  have  come 
upon  the  ground  of  the  Bourbons. 

It  was  important  that  all  should  be  new  in  the 
nature  of  my  power,  in  order  that  all  kinds  of  am- 
bition might  find  their  aliment.  But  there  was 
nothing  defined  in  it,  and  that  was  its  defect. 

By  the  constitution  I  was  only  the  first  magis- 
trate of  the  republic;  but  my  staff  of  office  was  a 
sword.  My  constitutional  rights,  and  the  as- 
cendency given  me  by  my  character  and  actions, 
were  incompatible.  The  public  felt  as  well  as  I 
did  that  this  could  not  last,  and  every  one  took 
measures  accordingly. 

I  found  more  courtiers  than  I  wanted;  they 
formed  a  train :  and  I  was  not  at  all  in  pain  about 
the  progress  of  my  authority,  but  very  much  so 
as  to  the  material  situation  of  France. 

We  had  allowed  ourselves  to  be  beaten:  the 
Austrians  had  recovered  Italy,  and  overturned 
my  labours.  We  had  no  army  to  employ  offen- 
sively ;  there  was  not  a  sous  in  the  exchequer,  and 
no  means  of  supplying  it.  The  conscription  only 
went  on  as  it  pleased  the  country  mayors.  Sieyes 
had  drawn  up  an  inefficient  and  wordy  constitu- 
tion. All  that  constitutes  the  strength  of  a  state 
was  annihilated ;  the  weak  parts  only  remained. 

Forced  by  circumstances,  I  thought  it  right  to 
demand  peace.  I  could  then  do  it  in  good  earnest, 


22 

because  it  would  have  made  my  fortune:  later,  it 
would  have  been  disgraceful. 

Mr.  Pitt  refused  it,  and  never  did  statesman 
commit  so  great  a  blunder;  for  that  was  the  only 
opening  for  the  allies  to  make  it  with  safety: 
France,  by  demanding  peace,  acknowledged  that 
she  was  conquered;  and  nations  may  rise  from 
every  reverse  if  they  do  not  consent  to  their  own 
disgrace. 

Mr.  Pitt  refused  it.  He  saved  me  from  com- 
mitting a  great  error,  and  he  extended  the  empire 
of  the  Revolution  over  all  Europe— an  empire  that 
even  my  fall  has  not  been  able  to  destroy.  Had  he 
then  left  it  to  itself,  it  would  have  been  confined 
to  France. 

Thus  I  was  forced  to  go  to  war.  Massena  de- 
fended himself  in  Genoa;  but  the  armies  of  the 
Republic  no  longer  dared  to  cross  either  the 
Rhine  or  the  Alps.  We  must  return  to  Italy,  we 
must  return  to  Germany,  before  we  could  a  second 
time  dictate  the  terms  of  peace  to  Austria. — Such 
was  my  plan ;  but  I  had  neither  soldiers,  ordnance, 
nor  small  arms. 

I  called  out  the  conscripts; — I  set  armourers 
to  work; — I  roused  the  sentiments  of  that  na- 
tional honour,  which  is  never  more  than  lulled  in 
the  breast  of  a  Frenchman.  I  assembled  an  army : 
half  of  it  still  wore  the  clothing  of  the  peasantry. 


23 

Europe  laughed  at  my  soldiers ;  but  she  paid  dear- 
ly for  her  momentary  mirth. 

However,  it  was  impossible  openly  to  take  the 
field  with  such  an  army.  But  at  least  it  was  feasi- 
ble to  surprise  the  enemy,  and  take  advantage  of 
that  surprise. — General  Suchet  drew  him  on  to- 
wards the  defiles  of  Nice ;  Massena  protracted  the 
defence  of  Genoa  from  day  to  day.  I  set  out; — 
I  advanced  towards  the  Alps;— my  presence,  the 
grandeur  of  the  enterprize,  animated  the  soldiers. 
They  had  no  shoes,  but  they  marched  as  if  each 
belonged  to  the  van-guard. 

At  no  time  in  my  life  did  I  ever  feel  such  a 
sentiment  as  that,  with  which  I  entered  the  defiles 
of  the  Alps.  The  mountain  echoes  resounded  with 
the  shouts  of  the  army.  They  announced  an  un- 
certain but  probable  victory.  I  was  re-entering 
Italy — the  theatre  of  my  first  campaign.  My  can- 
non slowly  climbed  the  rocks.  My  first  grenadiers 
reached  the  summit  of  St.  Bernard.  They  threw 
up  their  hats,  decorated  with  red  feathers,  into  the 
air,  and  shouted  for  joy.  The  Alps  were  crossed, 
and  we  poured  down  like  a  torrent. 

General  L'Asne  commanded  the  advanced 
guard.  He  seized  Ivree,  Verceil,  Pavia,  and  se- 
cured the  passage  of  the  Po.  The  whole  army 
crossed  it  without  interruption. 

Soldiers  and  generals  were  young  alike  at  that 


24 

time.  We  had  our  fortune  to  make.  We  made 
light  of  fatigue,  still  lighter  of  danger.  We  were 
careless  of  every  thing,  but  of  that  glory  which 
is  only  to  be  obtained  on  the  field  of  battle. 

At  the  news  of  my  arrival,  the  Austrians 
manoeuvred  upon  Alexandria.  Crowded  up  in 
that  town,  at  the  moment  I  appeared  before  its 
walls,  their  columns  spread  themselves  in  front  of 
the  Bormida.  I  attacked  them.  Their  artillery 
was  superior  to  mine;  it  disordered  our  young 
battalions;  they  gave  ground.  The  line  was  kept 
only  by  two  battalions  of  the  guards  and  the 
forty-fifth.  But  I  expected  some  corps  that  were 
marching  in  file.  Dessaix's  division  arrived;  the 
line  rallied.  Dessaix  formed  his  column  of  at- 
tack, he  carried  the  village  of  Marengo,  upon 
which  the  centre  of  the  enemy  was  posted.  But 
that  great  general  was  killed  at  the  very  moment 
in  which  he  had  decided  an  immortal  victory. 

The  enemy  sought  shelter  under  the  walls  of 
Alexandria.  The  bridges  were  too  narrow  for 
them  to  pass;  a  dreadful  confusion  ensued;  we 
took  bodies  of  artillery,  the  whole  batallions. 
Crowded  up  beyond  the  Tanaro,  without  com- 
munication, without  retreat,  threatened  on  the 
rear  by  Massena  and  Suchet,  with  a  victorious 
army  in  front,  the  Austrians  submitted.  Melas 
begged  to  capitulate — it  was  unheard  of  in  the 


25 

annals  of  war.  The  whole  of  Italy  was  restored 
to  me,  and  the  conquered  army  laid  down  their 
arms  at  the  feet  of  our  conscripts. 

This  day  was  the  brightest  of  my  life,  for  it 
was  one  of  the  brightest  for  France.  All  was 
changed  for  her;  she  was  soon  to  enjoy  a  peace 
which  she  had  conquered.— She  lay  down  to  rest 
like  a  lion.  She  must  be  happy,  for  she  was  great. 

Faction  was  at  rest ;  it  was  dazzled  into  silence. 
La  Vendee  was  calmer;  the  Jacobins  were  forced 
to  thank  me  for  the  victory,  for  it  turned  to  their 
account.  I  had  no  rivals. 

Common  danger  and  public  enthusiasm  had 
forced  every  party  to  join  for  the  moment.  Se- 
curity divided  them.  Wherever  there  is  not  an  in- 
contestable centre  of  power  men  will  be  found  who 
will  hope  to  incline  it  towards  themselves.  It  is 
what  happened  to  mine.  My  authority  was  only 
that  of  a  temporary  magistracy ;  it  was  therefore 
not  unalterable.  Whoever  had  vanity,  and  be- 
lieved himself  possessed  of  talent,  began  a  cam- 
paign against  me.  The  tribune  became  the  citadel 
whence  they  began  their  attack,  under  the  name 
of  the  executive  power. 

If  I  had  yielded  to  their  declamations,  it  had 
been  all  over  with  the  state.  It  had  too  many 
enemies  to  venture  to  divide  its  forces,  or  to  lose 
time  in  words.  The  recent  trial  was  a  tolerably 


26 

rude  proof,  but  it  had  not  sufficed  to  silence  those, 
who  will  always  prefer  the  interest  of  their  private 
vanity  to  that  of  their  country.  They  amused 
themselves,  in  order  to  gain  popularity,  with  re- 
sisting taxes,  abusing  the  government,  and  hamp- 
ering its  proceedings,  as  well  as  keeping  back  the 
recruits  for  the  army. 

Had  this  continued,  we  should  have  fallen  a 
prey  to  the  enemy  in  ten  days.  We  were  not  yet 
strong  enough  to  hazard  it.  My  power  was  too 
new  to  be  invulnerable.  The  consulate  would  have 
faded  like  the  directory,  if  I  had  not  destroyed  the 
opposition  by  a  stroke  of  policy.  I  deposed  the 
factious  tribunes.  The  world  of  Paris  called  this 
to  eliminate  them;  the  word  made  its  fortune*. 

This  trifling  event,  which  is  now  assuredly  for- 
gotten, changed  the  constitution  of  France,  both 
internally  and  with  regard  to  Europe.  The 
enemies  of  the  revolution,  both  within  and  with- 
out, were  too  violent  not  to  force  her  to  adopt  the 
form  of  a  dictatorship,  as  every  other  republic 
has  done  in  moments  of  danger.  Balanced  powers 
can  only  answer  in  peaceful  times.  They  were 
obliged  to  increase  mine  on  the  contrary  every 

*This  is  an  awkward  and  periphrastic  translation,  but  the 
real  English  expel,  or  in  the  other  sense  worn-out,  would  never 
do:  the  word  had  till  then,  even  in  Prance,  been  rarely  used — and 
the  run  that  it  had  was  but  for  a  time. 


27 

time  it  appeared  in  danger,  in  order  to  prevent  a 
relapse. 

I  should,  perhaps,  have  done  better,  had  I 
frankly  insisted  on  the  dictatorship  at  once,  since 
I  was  accused  of  aspiring  to  it.  Every  one  would 
have  been  a  judge  of  what  they  called  my  am- 
bition: I  believe  it  would  have  been  better;  for 
monsters  appear  greater  at  a  distance  than  close 
by.  The  dictatorship  would  have  had  the  advan- 
tage of  leaving  nothing  to  guess  of  for  the  fu- 
ture; of  leaving  opinion  undivided,  and  of  in- 
timidating the  enemy  by  shewing  the  resolution  of 
France. 

But  I  perceived  that  this  high  authority  was 
placed,  as  of  itself,  in  my  hands.  I  had  no  oc- 
casion to  receive  it  officially.  I  exercised  it  in 
fact,  if  not  by  right,  and  it  was  sufficient  to  sur- 
vive the  crisis,  and  to  save  France  and  the  revolu- 
tion. 

My  task  then  was  to  terminate  the  revolution, 
by  giving  it  a  lawful  character,  that  it  might  be 
acknowledged  and  legitimated  by  the  common- 
wealth of  Europe. 

All  revolutions  have  undergone  the  same  con- 
flicts. Ours  could  not  expect  to  be  exempt  from 
them ;  but  she  might  claim  in  her  turn  her  right  of 
citizenship  in  that  commonwealth. 

I  knew  that  before  we  proposed  it,  our  prin- 


28 

ciples  must  be  fixed;  our  legislation  agreed  upon, 
and  our  excesses  repressed.  I  believed  myself 
strong  enough  to  succeed,  and  I  was  not  mistaken. 

The  principle  of  the  revolution  was  the  aboli- 
tion of  castes,  or  in  other  words  equality.  I 
respected  it.  The  office  of  Legislation  is  to  regu- 
late principles.  In  this  spirit  I  made  laws.  Ex- 
cesses had  shewn  themselves  in  the  existence  of 
factions.  I  did  not  notice  them,  and  they  disap- 
peared. They  had  shewn  themselves  in  the  de- 
struction of  religious  worship;  I  re-established 
it.  In  the  existence  of  emigrants;  I  recalled 
them.  In  the  general  disorder  of  administration; 
I  reformed  it.  In  the  ruin  of  the  finance;  I  re- 
stored it.  In  the  want  of  an  authority  competent 
to  govern  France;  I  gave  her  that  authority  by 
taking  into  my  own  hands  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment. 

Few  men  have  done  so  much  as  I  did  then  in 
so  short  a  time.  History  will  one  day  record  what 
France  was  at  my  accession,  and  what  she  was 
when  she  gave  laws  to  Europe. 

I  had  no  occasion  to  employ  arbitrary  power  to 
accomplish  these  stupendous  works.  Probably  it 
would  not  have  been  refused  me :  but  I  would  not 
have  accepted  it,  because  I  have  always  detested 
whatever  is  arbitrary.  I  loved  good  order  and 
laws.  I  made  many,  and  I  made  them  severe  and 


29 

precise,  but  just;  because  a  law  which  permits  no 
exceptions  is  always  just.  I  caused  them  to  be 
rigorously  observed,  for  such  is  the  duty  of  the 
throne,  but  I  respected  them.  They  will  survive 
me :  and  that  will  reward  my  labours. 

All  seemed  to  prosper.  The  state  revived ;  good 
order  began  to  re-appear.  I  devoted  myself  ar- 
dently to  the  work,  but  I  felt  that  there  was  some- 
thing wanting  in  the  system — that  is  to  say,  a 
definitive. 

However  strong  my  desire  might  be  to  give 
the  revolution  a  permanent  establishment,  I  clear- 
ly saw  that  I  should  have  to  overcome  great  ob- 
stacles before  I  succeeded:  for  there  was  a  nec- 
essary antipathy  between  the  old  and  new  sys- 
tems. They  formed  two  masses  whose  interests 
were  precisely  in  an  inverse  ratio.  All  the  gov- 
ernments which  still  subsisted  by  virtue  of  the 
ancient  law  of  nations  saw  themselves  exposed  by 
the  principles  of  the  revolution,  which  itself  had 
no  security  but  in  treating  with  the  enemy,  or 
destroying  him  if  he  refused  to  acknowledge  it. 

This  struggle  was  to  decide,  as  by  a  last  ap- 
peal, on  the  renewal  of  the  social  order  of  Europe. 
I  was  at  the  head  of  the  great  faction  which  would 
fain  have  destroyed  the  system  on  which  the 
world  had  gone  on  since  the  time  of  the  Romans. 
As  such  I  was  set  up  as  a  mark  for  the  hatred  of 


30 

all  who  were  interested  in  preserving  their  Gothic 
rust.  A  less  decided  character  than  mine  might 
have  temporised,  and  left  a  part  at  least  of  this 
question  to  be  disposed  of  by  time. 

But  as  soon  as  I  had  sounded  the  two  factions 
to  the  very  bottom — as  soon  as  I  had  perceived 
that  they  really  divided  the  world  as  at  the  time 
of  the  reformation,  I  understood  that  there  could 
be  no  compact  between  them,  because  their  inter- 
ests clashed  too  much.  I  understood  that  the  more 
the  crisis  was  shortened  the  better  for  the  people. 
It  was  therefore  absolutely  necessary  that  we 
should  have  the  half  plus  one  of  Europe  in  order 
to  incline  the  balance  in  our  favour.  I  could  only 
command  this  preponderance  by  the  right  of  the 
strongest,  because  it  is  the  only  one  acknowledged 
between  nations.  It  was  therefore  also  necessary 
to  become  the  strongest ;  for  I  was  not  only  called 
to  govern  France,  but  to  subdue  the  world  before 
her;  otherwise  she  would  have  been  crushed  by 
the  world. 

I  never  had  a  choice  in  the  course  I  pursued, 
for  it  was  always  commanded  by  events ;  because 
our  danger  was  imminent;  and  the  31st  March 
proved  how  far  it  was  to  be  dreaded,  and  how  im- 
possible it  was  to  teach  the  old  and  new  systems 
to  abide  together  in  peace. 

It  was  then  easy  to  foresee  that  as  long  as  there 


31 

should  be  a  parity  of  force  between  the  two,  there 
would  be  war,  open,  or  disguised.  Any  peace  that 
might  be  signed  would  be  but  to  gain  a  breathing- 
time.  France  then,  as  the  head-quarters  of  the  re- 
volution, was  bound  to  hold  herself  in  readiness  to 
resist  the  tempest.  For  this  purpose  it  was 
requisite  that  there  should  be  unity  in  the  govern- 
ment, to  ensure  strength;  union  in  the  nation,  to 
produce  a  common  aim ;  and  confidence  in  the  peo- 
ple, that  they  might  consent  to  the  sacrifices  neces- 
sary to  ensure  victory. 

But  every  thing  was  precarious  in  the  consular 
system,  because  nothing  was  in  its  proper  sphere. 
There  was  a  nominal  republic,  a  real  sovereignty ; 
a  feeble  representation  of  the  people,  a  strong  ex- 
ecutive power;  obedient  authority,  and  a  prepon- 
derating army. 

Nothing  can  go  on  well  in  a  political  system 
where  words  and  things  are  at  variance.  Gov- 
ernment debases  itself  by  the  continual  fictions  it 
must  use :  it  falls  into  that  kind  of  contempt  which 
is  felt  for  falsehood,  because  whatever  is  false  is 
weak.  The  time  is  past  for  finessing  in  politics: 
the  people  are  too  well  informed ;  the  gazettes  dis- 
close too  much.  There  is  but  one  secret  for  gov- 
erning the  world;  it  is,  Be  strong:  in  strength 
there  can  be  neither  error  nor  deception:  it  is 
truth  naked. 


32 

I  felt  the  weakness  of  my  situation— the  ab- 
surdity of  my  consulate.  Something  solid  was  re- 
quired as  rallying  point  for  the  revolution.  I 
was  named  consul  for  life.  It  was  a  life-rent  of 
superiority;  insufficient  in  itself,  because  it  fixed 
some  future  date,  and  nothing  ruins  confidence 
like  the  certainty  of  a  change.  But  it  answered 
for  the  time  for  which  it  was  adopted. 

Meantime,  what  had  I  gained  by  the  truce  of 
Amiens?  I  had  hazarded  an  imprudent  expedi- 
tion, for  which  I  was  reproached,  and  justly,  for 
it  was  worthless  of  itself. 

I  tried  to  recover  San  Domingo;  I  had  good 
reasons  for  the  attempt.  France  was  too  much 
hated  by  the  allies  to  dare  to  remain  inactive  dur- 
ing the  peace:  she  was  forced  to  maintain  her 
strength ;  and  it  was  necessary  to  give  some  scope 
to  idle  curiosity.  The  army  required  to  be  kept 
constantly  in  motion  to  prevent  it  from  falling 
off :  besides  I  was  glad  to  try  our  sea  forces. 

For  the  rest,  the  expedition  was  ill  conducted : 
wherever  I  was  not  present  things  went  wrong. 
But  it  was  much  the  same ;  it  was  easy  to  perceive 
that  the  English  ministry  was  about  to  break  the 
truce,  and  if  we  had  subdued  San  Domingo,  it 
would  have  been  for  them. 

Every  day  augmented  my  security;  when  the 
event  of  the  3d  Nivose  shewed  me  that  I  was  upon 


33 

a  volcano.  That  conspiracy  was  unforeseen;  it 
was  the  only  one  with  which  the  police  had  not 
been  beforehand.  There  were  no  confidents  in  the 
business,  and  for  that  reason  it  succeeded. 

I  escaped  by  miracle:  the  interest  shewn  for 
me  made  up  amply  for  the  danger.  The  time  of 
the  conspiracy  was  ill  chosen:  nothing  was  ready 
for  the  Bourbons  in  France. 

The  guilty  were  sought  for.  I  can  say  with 
truth  that  I  accused  only  the  mob-patriots*;  for 
whenever  a  crime  was  committed,  every  one  was 
disposed  to  give  them  the  honour  of  it.  I  was 
very  much  astonished  when  the  result  of  the  en- 
quiries proved,  that  the  good  people  of  Kue  St. 
Nicaise  were  obliged  to  the  royalists  for  blowing 
them  up. 

I  fancied  the  royalists  had  been  good  people, 
because  they  accused  us  of  not  being  so ;  and  I  be- 
lieved them  incapable  of  the  boldness  and  the  vil- 
lany  that  such  a  scheme  required.  In  fact,  the  pro- 
ject was  that  of  a  few  who  robbed  stage  coaches ; 
a  set  that  was  talked  of  and  nattered,  but  little 
respected  by  the  party.  . 

Thus  the  royalists,  who  had  been  quite  for- 
gotten since  the  pacification  of  La  Vendee,  re- 

*  Brutur  du  Coin,  literally,  Brutuges  of  the  Minories.  The 
closest  parallel  would  have  been  the  patriots  of  Spafields. — T. 


34 

appeared  on  the  political  horizon:  it  was  a  nat- 
ural consequence  of  the  increase  of  my  authority. 
I  was  building  up  royalty;  it  was  poaching  upon 
their  grounds. 

They  never  perceived  that  my  monarchy  had 
nothing  to  do  with  theirs;  mine  was  all  in  fact; 
theirs  in  right:  theirs  was  founded  on  custom; 
mine  did  without :  it  went  along  with  the  genius  of 
the  age ;  theirs  struggled  to  fetter  it. 

The  republicans  were  alarmed  at  the  height 
to  which  circumstances  had  raised  me.  They 
dreaded  the  use  I  was  to  make  of  my  power ;  they 
trembled  lest  I  should  re-establish  an  old-fash- 
ioned royalty  by  the  assistance  of  my  army.  The 
royalists  kept  up  these  reports,  and  delighted  to 
represent  me  as  apeing  their  ancient  monarchs: 
other  royalists  more  adroitly  spread  abroad  that  I 
had  fallen  in  love  with  the  character  of  Monk,  and 
that  I  had  taken  the  pains  to  restore  power,  only 
to  make  a  present  of  it  to  the  Bourbons,  when  it 
should  be  worthy  of  their  acceptance. 

Weak  minds,  who  could  not  fathom  my 
strength,  believed  these  reports.  They  supported 
the  royalists,  and  abused  me  to  the  people,  and  in 
the  army,  for  they  began  to  doubt  my  attachment 
to  their  cause.  I  could  not  allow  such  an  opinion 
to  gain  ground,  because  it  tended  to  disunite  us. 


35 

It  was  necessary  to  undeceive  France,  the 
royalists,  and  Europe,  at  any  price,  that  they 
might  know  what  to  trust  to.  A  persecution  in 
detail  against  words  can  produce  no  other  than 
bad  effects,  because  it  does  not  strike  at  the  root 
of  evil.  Besides,  it  is  become  impossible  in  this 
age  of  public  appeal,  when  the  exile  of  a  woman 
disturbed  all  France. 

Unfortunately  for  me,  there  happened  at  this 
very  decisive  moment  one  of  those  chances  which 
destroy  the  best  resolutions.  The  police  discov- 
ered some  litle  royalist  plots,  the  source  of  which 
was  beyond  the  Rhine;  an  august  personage  was 
implicated  in  them.  All  the  circumstances  squared 
in  an  incredible  way  with  those  which  led  me  to 
strike  a  decided  political  blow.  The  death  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien  would  put  the  question  that  agi- 
tated France  at  rest.  It  would  decide  irrevocably 
as  to  me.  I  gave  orders  for  it. 

A  man  of  great  judgment,  and  who  ought  to 
know  something  of  these  matters,  said  of  this  mur- 
der, that  it  was  more  than  a  crime,  that  it  was  a 
fault.  Begging  pardon  of  that  personage,  it  was 
a  crime,  and  it  was  not  a  fault.  I  know  well  the 
value  of  words.  The  crime  of  the  unfortunate 
prince  was  confined  to  a  few  miserable  intrigues 
in  concert  with  some  dowage  baronesses  at 
Strasbourg.  He  was  playing  his  game.  His  in- 


36 

trigues  were  watched,  and  could  neither  affect  my 
safety  nor  that  of  France.  He  perished,  the  vic- 
tim of  policy,  and  an  unheard-of  concatenation  of 
circumstances. 

His  death  was  not  a  fault,  because  all  the  con- 
sequences I  foresaw  came  to  pass. 

The  war  with  England  was  renewed,  because 
it  is  impossible  for  that  country  to  remain  long 
at  peace.  The  territory  of  England  is  become 
too  small  for  its  population.  She  requires  a 
monopoly  of  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  to  en- 
able her  to  exist.  War  procures  this  monopoly, 
because  it  gives  England  the  right  of  destruction 
at  sea.  It  is  her  safeguard. 

The  war  was  languid  for  want  of  ground  to 
fight  on.  England  was  obliged  to  hire  some  on 
the  continent,  but  the  harvest  required  time  to 
grow.  Austria  had  received  such  severe  lessons, 
that  the  ministers  dared  not  propose  war  so  soon, 
however  willing  they  might  be  to  earn  their 
money.  Prussia  was  thriving  in  her  neutrality. 
Russia  had  made  a  fatal  trial  of  war  in  Switzer- 
land. Italy  and  Spain  had  entered  with  but  little 
reservation  into  my  system.  The  continent  was 
at  a  stand. 

For  want  of  better  I  set  about  a  project  for  in- 
vading England.  I  never  thought  of  realising  it, 
for  it  would  have  failed :  not  that  the  actual  land- 


37 

ing  would  have  been  impossible,  but  a  retreat 
would  have  been  so.  There  is  not  a  single  English- 
man who  would  not  have  taken  up  arms  to  save  the 
honour  of  his  country;  and  the  French  army,  left 
without  help  to  their  mercy,  would  have  perished 
or  surrendered.  I  made  such  a  trial  in  Egypt  in- 
deed, but  in  London  the  stake  was  too  deep. 

As  threats  cost  nothing,  since  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  my  troops,  it  was  as  well  to  keep  them  in 
garrison  on  the  coast  as  elsewhere.  This  demon- 
stration obliged  England  to  adopt  a  ruinous  sys- 
tem of  defence.  It  was  so  much  gained. 

In  revenge,  however,  there  was  a  conspiracy 
formed  against  me.  I  may  give  the  honour  of  this 
to  the  emigrant  princes,  for  it  was  truly  royal. 
They  had  set  on  foot  an  army  of  conspirators,  and 
accordingly  we  had  notice  of  it  within  twenty- 
four  hours ;  so  safe  were  the  confidants. 

However,  as  I  resolved  to  punish  men  who 
sought  to  overturn  the  state  (which  is  contrary  to 
all  laws  divine  and  human)  I  was  obliged  to  wait 
till  undeniable  proofs  were  collected  before  I  ar- 
rested them. 

Pichegru  was  at  the  head  of  these  machina- 
tions. This  man,  who  had  more  bravery  than  tal- 
ent, wanted  to  act  the  part  of  Monk;  he  was  cut 
out  for  it. 


38 

These  schemes  gave  me  little  uneasiness,  be- 
cause I  knew  their  aim,  and  that  public  opinion 
did  not  favour  them.  Though  the  royalists  had 
assassinated  me,  they  would  not  have  been  a  whit 
nearer  the  mark.  There  is  a  time  for  all  things. 

I  soon  learnt  that  Moreau  was  implicated  in 
the  plot,  and  this  was  a  delicate  affair  to  handle, 
because  his  popularity  was  tremendous.  It  was 
clear  that  he  must  be  gained.  His  reputation  was 
too  high  for  us  to  remain  good  neighbours.  I 
could  not  be  all  while  he  was  nothing.  It  was 
convenient  to  find  a  decent  pretext  for  separating. 
He  furnished  it. 

It  was  currently  said  that  I  was  jealous  of 
him:  there  was  but  little  truth  in  this;  but  he 
was  very  jealous  of  me,  and  with  reason.  I  es- 
teemed him,  because  he  was  a  good  soldier.  His 
friends  were  all  those  who  hated  me;  that  is  to 
say,  a  great  many.  They  would  have  made  a  hero 
of  him,  had  he  been  put  to  death.  I  resolved  to 
shew  him  as  he  was — a  man  of  no  character.  I 
succeeded;  absence  was  fatal  to  him;  his  friends 
forgot  him,  and  nobody  else  ever  cared  more  about 
him. 

Less  delicacy  was  required  with  regard  to  the 
other  criminals.  They  were  old  hackneyed  con- 
spirators, of  whom  it  was  important  to  purge 


39 

France  for  ever.  We  succeeded,  for  from  that 
time  they  never  re-appeared. 

I  was  overwhelmed  with  petitions.  All  the 
women  and  children  in  Paris  were  in  commotion. 
Every  body's  pardon  was  sued  for.  I  had  the 
weakness  to  send  a  few  of  the  criminals  to  the 
state  prisons,  instead  of  allowing  justice  to  take 
its  course. 

I  even  now  regret  this  kind  of  indulgence,  be- 
cause in  a  sovereign  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  cul- 
pable weakness.  He  has  but  one  duty  to  fulfil  to- 
wards the  state,  that  of  enforcing  the  laws.  Every 
compromise  with  crime  becomes  a  crime  in  the 
crown.  The  prerogative  of  mercy  ought  never  to 
be  exerted  in  favour  of  the  guilty;  it  should  be 
reserved  for  those  unfortunate  persons  who  are 
absolved  by  conscience,  though  condemned  by  law. 

Pichegru  was  found  strangled  in  his  bed.  Of 
course  it  was  said  to  be  by  my  orders.  I  was 
totally  ignorant  concerning  the  matter.  I  cannot 
perceive  what  interest  I  could  have  had  in  antici- 
pating his  public  execution.  He  was  not  better 
than  the  others;  and  I  had  a  tribunal  to  judge 
him,  and  soldiers  to  shoot  him.  I  never  did  a  use- 
less act  in  my  life. 

My  authority  increased  because  it  had  been 
threatened.  Nothing  in  France  was  prepared  for 
a  counter-revolution.  The  public  regarded  the  in- 


40 

trigues  of  the  royalists  as  only  calculated  to  bring 
on  the  horror  of  civil  war  and  anarchy.  The  peo- 
ple wished  at  any  price  to  avert  these  evils,  and 
rallied  round  me,  because  I  promised  to  defend 
them.  France  sought  repose  under  the  shelter  of 
my  sword.  The  public  voice — (history  will  not 
contradict  me),— the  public  voice  called  me  to  the 
throne  of  France. 

The  republican  form  of  government  could  no 
longer  exist,  because  ancient  monarchies  will  not 
be  converted  into  republics.  The  desire  of  France 
was  national  greatness.  To  raise  and  sustain  the 
edifice  of  national  greatness,  it  was  requisite  to 
destroy  faction,  to  consolidate  the  labours  of  the 
revolution,  and  to  fix  irrevocably  the  limits  of  the 
state.  I  alone  promised  France  to  fulfil  these  con- 
ditions. France  called  me  to  reign  over  her. 

I  could  not  become  a  king;  the  title  was  worn 
out;  it  excited  definite  and  preconceived  ideas; 
but  it  was  important  that  my  title,  like  the  nature 
of  my  power,  should  be  new.  I  was  not  the  heir 
of  the  Bourbons.  No  common  man  could  venture 
to  sit  on  their  throne.  I  took  the  name  of  Em- 
peror— because  it  was  greater,  and  less  defined. 

Never  was  revolution  so  peaceable  as  that 
which  overturned  the  republic  for  which  so  much 
blood  had  been  shed.  It  was  because  the  thing 
was  still  the  same;  the  name  alone  was  changed. 


41 

On  these  grounds  the  republicans  did  not  dread 
the  empire. 

Besides,  such  revolutions  as  do  not  interfere 
with  the  interests  of  individuals  are  always  peace- 
able. 

The  revolution  was  at  length  accomplished.  It 
became  inexpugnable  under  a  permanent  dynasty. 
The  republic  had  only  satisfied  opinion;  the  em- 
pire guaranteed  private  interest  as  well  as  public 
opinion. 

These  interests  were  those  of  an  immense  ma- 
jority, because  the  empire  confirmed  equality. 
Democracy,  both  in  fact  and  in  right,  existed. 
Liberty  alone  had  been  restricted,  because  it  is 
worse  than  useless  in  moments  of  danger.  But 
liberty  is  of  no  use  to  any  but  the  enlightened  part 
of  a  nation ;  equality  is  valuable  to  all.  Hence  my 
power  remained  popular  even  amidst  the  reverses 
that  overwhelmed  France. 

My  authority  did  not  rest,  like  that  of  the  old 
monarchies,  upon  a  scaffolding  of  castes  and  sub- 
ordinate ranks ;  it  was  immediate  and  self -de- 
pendant; for  the  empire  consisted  only  of  the  na- 
tion and  me.  But  in  that  nation  all  were  equally 
called  to  the  exercise  of  public  functions.  The 
point  of  departure  was  no  obstacle.  A  disposition 
upwards  was  universal  in  the  state,  and  in  this 
disposition  consisted  my  strength. 


42 

I  did  not  invent  this  system ;  it  arose  out  of  the 
ruins  of  the  Bastile.  It  is  the  result  of  the  moral 
civilization  which  time  has  wrought  in  Europe; 
all  attempts  to  destroy  it  will  be  vain:  it  will  be 
maintained  by  the  nature  of  things,  because  prac- 
tice will  always  ultimately  be  found  to  conform  to 
power.  Now  power  was  taken  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  nobility  from  the  moment  they  had  permitted 
the  third  estate  to  carry  arms,  from  the  moment 
they  had  declined  serving  as  the  sole  militia  of 
the  state. 

Power  had  abandoned  the  clergy  from  the  time 
when,  by  beginning  to  reason,  the  people  had  be- 
come virtually  protestants.  Power  had  abandoned 
government  precisely  because  the  nobility  and 
clergy  were  disabled  from  fulfilling  their  offices, 
that  is  to  say,  because  they  could  no  longer  sup- 
port the  throne.  Routine  and  prejudice  had  also 
lost  their  power,  because  routine  and  prejudice 
had  been  unmasked  before  the  people. 

The  social  compact  was  dissolved  long  before 
the  revolution,  because  things  and  words  had 
ceased  to  coincide. 

The  downfall  of  prejudice  had  laid  bare  the 
sources  of  power;  its  weakness  was  discovered; 
it  fell  on  the  first  assault. 

Authority  was  therefore  to  be  built  up  again 
upon  a  new  plan.  The  whole  train  of  habits  and 


43 

prejudices  were  to  be  passed  over:  that  mental 
blindness,  called  faith,  was  to  be  of  no  avail. 
There  were  no  inherited  rights,  but  every  thing 
was  to  rest  upon  fact — that  is,  power. 

Thus  I  did  not  mount  the  throne  like  the  heir 
of  an  ancient  dynasty,  to  sit  there  luxuriously  un- 
der the  shadow  of  habit  and  illusion :  but  I  placed 
myself  there  to  execute  the  institutions  willed  by 
the  people ;  to  wield  the  law  under  the  sanction  of 
moral  right;  and  to  render  France  formidable,  in 
order  to  maintain  her  independence. 

The  opportunity  was  soon  afforded.  England 
was  tired  of  seeing  my  troops  upon  the  coast.  She 
resolved  to  get  rid  of  them,  and,  purse  in  hand, 
she  sought  allies  on  the  continent.  She  could  not 
fail  to  find  them. 

The  ancient  dynasties  were  appalled  at  seeing 
me  on  the  throne.  Whatever  civilities  might  pass 
between  us,  it  was  too  clear  that  I  was  not  one  of 
them;  for  I  reigned  by  virtue  of  a  system  which 
must  break  down  the  altar  time  had  consecrated 
to  them.  I  was  of  myself  a  revolution.  The  em- 
pire was  not  less  dreadful  to  them  than  the  re- 
public: in  fact  they  feared  it  more— for  it  was 
more  healthy. 

It  was  policy  to  attack  me  as  soon  as  possible, 
before  I  attained  to  my  full  strength. 


44 

The  chances  of  the  struggle  'about  to  take 
place  were  of  the  last  importance  to  me.  I  was 
to  learn  the  very  measure  of  the  hatred  I  inspired. 
I  was  to  learn  which  were  the  sovereigns  whom 
fear  would  force  to  fall  in  with  the  system  of  the 
empire,  and  which  of  them  would  perish  rather 
than  tamper  with  it. 

This  struggle  could  not  but  lead  to  new  po- 
litical combinations  in  Europe.  I  was  to  fall,  or  to 
become  its  master. 

I  had  just  annexed  Piedmont  to  France,  be- 
cause it  was  necessary  that  Lombardy  should  be 
dependant  on  the  empire.  The  cry  was  raised 
against  ambition;  the  lists  were  prepared  for  the 
fight;  the  act  of  annexation  was  the  signal  for  it. 

The  battle  could  not  fail  of  being  obstinate. 
The  Austrians  assembled  all  their  forces,  and  the 
Russians  were  determined  to  join  with  all  theirs. 

The  young  Alexander  had  just  ascended  the 
throne :  as  children  like  to  do  the  contrary  of  what 
their  fathers  have  done,  he  declared  war  against 
me,  because  his  father  had  made  peace.  For  we 
had  as  yet  no  quarrel  with  the  Russians ;  but  the 
women  and  the  courtiers  had  settled  the  matter. 
They  thought  they  were  only  acting  in  good 
taste,  because  I  was  not  the  fashion  in  the  great 
world ;  while,  unconsciously,  they  were  laying  the 


45 

foundations  of  the  system  to  which  Russia  will 
one  day  owe  her  greatness. 

The  coalition  never  opened  a  campaign  more 
awkwardly.  The  Austrians  fancied  they  could 
take  me  by  surprise,  but  their  scheme  was  unsuc- 
cessful. 

They  overran  Bavaria  without  waiting  for  the 
Russians;  by  forced  marches  they  reached  the 
Rhine.  My  columns  had  quitted  the  camp  of 
Boulogne;  they  were  marching  through  France; 
we  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Strasbourg.  My  ad- 
vanced guard  met  the  Austrians  at  Ulm,  and 
routed  them.  I  marched  upon  Vienna  by  the  high 
road;  I  entered  it  without  an  obstacle.  An  Aus- 
trian general  had  forgotten  to  destroy  the  bridges 
over  the  Danube.  I  crossed  the  river;  I  should 
have  done  so  at  all  events,  but  I  was  the  sooner 
in  Moravia. 

The  Russians  were  but  just  coming  up:  the 
wreck  of  the  Austrians  sought  safety  under  their 
banners.  The  enemy  attempted  to  make  a  stand 
at  Austerlitz, — he  was  beaten.  The  Russians  re- 
tired in  good  order,  and  left  me  the  empire  of 
Austria. 

The  Emperor  Francis  demanded  an  inter- 
view ;  I  granted  him  one  in  a  ditch.  He  sued  for 
peace — I  gave  it  him ;  for  what  could  I  have  made 
of  his  dominions?  they  were  not  moulded  for  the 


46 

revolution.  But,  to  weaken  him,  I  demanded 
Venice  for  Lombardy,  and  the  Tyrol  for  Bavaria, 
that  I  might  reward  my  friends  at  the  expense  of 
my  enemies,— it  was  the  least  I  could  do. 

It  was,  however,  not  a  time  to  dispute;  peace 
was  signed.  I  proposed  the  same  terms  to  the 
Russians :  Alexander  refused  them. 

This  was  noble:  for  by  accepting  peace  he 
would  have  accepted  the  humiliation  of  Austria. 

By  refusing  he  shewed  firmness  under  calam- 
ity, and  confidence  in  fortune.  The  refusal  itself 
taught  me  that  the  fate  of  the  world  would  de- 
pend on  us  two. 

The  campaign  was  renewed:  I  followed  the 
Russians  in  their  retreat.  A  new  theatre  opened 
itself  to  our  arms.  I  was  going  to  see  the  old 
ground  of  anarchy  and  of  liberty  bent  under  the 
yoke  of  a  stranger:  the  Poles  only  waited  my  ar- 
rival in  order  to  throw  it  off. 

The  greatest  error  I  committed  during  my 
reign  was  neglecting  the  advantages  I  might  have 
derived  from  the  Poles.  Nevertheless  I  perceived 
the  importance  of  restoring  Poland,  that  it  might 
be  a  barrier  against  Russia,  and  counter-balance 
Austria;  but  circumstances  were  not  at  that  time 
favourable  for  realising  such  a  plan. 

Besides,  the  Poles  did  not  appear  to  me  fit  for 
my  designs.  They  are  an  enthusiastic  but  frivol- 


47 

ous  people.  They  do  every  thing  from  fancy — 
nothing  from  design:  their  enthusiasm  is  strong, 
but  they  can  neither  regulate  nor  prolong  it.  The 
nation  bears  about  its  ruin  in  its  character. 

Perhaps  by  giving  the  Poles  a  plan,  a  system,  a 
fixed  object,  they  might  have  formed  themselves 
in  time. 

Although  my  disposition  was  not  to  do  things 
by  halves,  I  did  no  more  in  Poland, — and  I  re- 
pented it.  I  advanced  in  the  midst  of  winter  to- 
wards the  north ;  the  climate  did  not  at  all  alarm 
the  soldiers;  their  moral  state  was  excellent.  I 
had  to  fight  an  army,  master  of  its  own  ground, 
and  in  its  own  climate.  It  awaited  me  on  the 
frontiers  of  Russia;  I  pursued  it  there,  that  my 
troops  might  not  languish  and  waste  in  wretched 
cantonments.  I  met  the  enemy  at  Eylau :  the  af- 
fair was  bloody  and  indecisive. 

If  the  Russians  had  attacked  us  the  next  day, 
we  should  have  been  beaten;  but  happily  their 
generals  are  seldom  inspired.  They  gave  me  time 
to  attack  them  at  Friedland,— victory  was  less 
doubtful.  Alexander  had  defended  himself  val- 
iantly,— he  proposed  peace.  It  was  honourable 
to  both  nations,  for  they  had  struggled  with  equal 
bravery.  Peace  was  signed  at  Tilsit;  it  was  in 
the  spirit  of  good  faith :  I  attest  the  Czar  himself. 

Such  was  the  issue  of  the  first  efforts  of  the 


48 

coalition  against  the  empire  I  had  just  founded. 
It  raised  the  glory  of  our  arms,  but  it  left  the 
question  undecided  between  Europe  and  me,  for 
our  enemies  had  only  been  humbled;  they  were 
neither  destroyed  nor  changed.  We  were  at  the 
point  whence  we  set  out;  and  when  I  signed  the 
articles  of  peace,  I  foresaw  a  new  war. 

War  was  inevitable  as  long  as  the  chances 
brought  about  no  new  combinations,  and  as  long 
as  England  should  have  a  personal  interest  in 
prolonging  it. 

But  it  was  important  to  make  use  of  the  tem- 
porary tranquillity  I  had  restored  on  the  con- 
tinent, to  enlarge  the  basis  of  my  empire,  that  it 
might  be  possessed  of  sufficient  solidity  to  resist 
a  future  attack.  The  throne  was  hereditary  in  my 
family,  which  thus  began  a  new  dynasty,  that 
time,  which  has  legitimated  so  many  others,  might 
consecrate.  From  the  days  of  Charlemagne  no 
crown  had  been  bestowed  with  equal  solemnity.  I 
had  received  it  with  the  consent  of  the  people  and 
the  sanction  of  the  church:  my  family,  called  to 
the  throne,  could  not  remain  mingled  among  the 
ordinary  classes  of  society — it  would  have  been 
an  incongruity. 

I  was  rich  in  conquests.  It  was  requisite  to 
unite  these  states  intimately  with  the  system  of  the 
empire,  in  order  to  increase  its  preponderance. 


49 

There  are  no  bonds  between  nations  but  those  of 
common  interest.  Therefore  a  community  of  in- 
terests between  us  and  the  conquered  countries 
was  absolutely  necessary.  To  accomplish  this 
end,  I  had  only  to  assimilate  their  ancient  social 
constitution  to  ours,  and  to  place  at  the  head  of 
these  new  institutions  rulers  interested  in  keep- 
ing them  up. 

I  answered  these  purposes  by  placing  my  fam- 
ily on  the  vacant  thrones. 

Lombardy  was  the  most  important  of  these 
states,  because  the  house  of  Austria  must  for  ever 
regret  it,  and  it  was  too  near  to  be  forgotten.  I 
did  not  choose  to  do  it  the  favour  of  placing  one 
of  my  brothers  on  its  throne.  I  alone  was  able  to 
bear  the  iron  crown,  and  I  put  it  upon  my  head. 

By  this  measure  I  gave  confidence  to  the  Lom- 
bards, for  by  it  I  took  their  affairs  into  my  own 
hands. 

The  new  state  received  the  name  of  the  king- 
dom of  Italy,  because  the  title  was  greater,  and 
spoke  more  directly  to  the  imagination  of  the 
Italians. 

The  throne  of  Naples  was  vacant.  Queen  Car- 
oline, after  having  deluged  the  streets  of  Naples 
with  blood,  and  given  up  the  kingdom  to  the  Eng- 
lish, had  been  driven  out  a  second  time.  That  un- 
happy country  needed  a  master  to  save  it  from 


50 

anarchy  and  from  the  effects  of  revenge.  One  of 
my  brothers  ascended  the  throne. 

Holland  had  long  lost  the  energy  which  con- 
stitutes a  republic.  She  had  no  longer  sufficient 
strength  to  play  the  part.  There  had  been  proofs 
of  this,  at  the  time  of  the  invasion  in  99.  I  had  no 
reason  to  suspect  that  the  Prince  of  Orange  was 
regretted,  from  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
treated.  Holland,  then,  seemed  to  need  a  sover- 
eign. I  gave  her  another  of  my  brothers. 

The  youngest  was  young  enough  to  wait.  The 
fourth  had  no  desire  for  a  crown;  he  had  fled  to 
avoid  one. 

No  republic  remained  but  Switzerland.  It  was 
not  worth  while  to  change  the  form  to  which  its 
people  were  accustomed  The  only  use  I  made  of 
my  authority  in  that  country  was  to  prevent  their 
cutting  each  other's  throats.  They  were  not  par- 
ticularly grateful. 

But  while  thus  forming  states  in  alliance  with 
France,  and  dependant  on  the  empire,  it  became 
necessary  to  incorporate  with  the  mother  coun- 
try other  portions  of  territory,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve its  preponderance  in  the  system. 

For  this  reason  I  joined  Piedmont  to  France, 
and  not  to  Italy.  I  also  added  to  it  Genoa 
and  Parma.  These  additions  were  worthless  in 
themselves,  for  I  might  have  made  good  Italians 


51 

of  these  people;  they  became  but  sorry  French- 
men. But  the  empire  did  not  consist  of  France 
alone,  but  of  the  family  estates,  and  of  foreign 
allies.  It  was  essential  to  keep  a  certain  propor- 
tion between  these  elements.  Every  new  alliance 
required  a  new  annexation.  At  every  step  the 
people  raised  the  cry  of  ambition.  But  my  am- 
bition did  not  consist  in  wishing  for  a  few  square 
leagues,  more  or  less,  of  land,  but  in  the  triumph 
of  my  cause. 

Now  this  cause  consisted  not  solely  in  opinion, 
but  in  the  weight  that  either  party  could  place 
in  the  balance,  and  these  square  leagues  were  of 
consequence  in  the  scale,  because  the  world  is 
made  up  of  such. 

Thus  I  augmented  the  mass  of  power  that  I  set 
in  motion.  It  required  neither  talent  nor  address 
to  bring  about  these  changes.  An  act  of  my  will 
sufficed;  for  these  nations  were  too  petty  to  have 
one  of  their  own  when  I  appeared.  They  de- 
pended on  the  momentum  given  to  the  aggregate 
of  the  imperial  system.  The  radiating  point  of 
that  system  was  France. 

My  work  required  consolidation  by  giving 
France  new  institutions  conformable  to  the  new 
social  order  she  had  adopted.  The  age  was  to  be 
created  anew  for  me,  as  I  had  been  for  it. 


52 

I  had  to  become  a  legislator,  after  having  been 
a  warrior. 

It  was  not  possible  to  make  the  revolution  re- 
trace its  steps;  for  that  would  have  been  making 
the  strong  submit  anew  to  the  weak,  which  is  un- 
natural. I  had,  therefore,  to  seize  the  spirit  of 
the  times,  and  to  form  an  analogous  system  of  leg- 
islation. I  think  I  succeeded — the  system  will  sur- 
vive me;  and  I  have  left  Europe  an  inheritance 
which  she  can  never  now  alienate. 

There  was  in  fact  nothing  in  the  state  but  a 
huge  democracy,  swayed  by  a  dictator.  This  kind 
of  government  is  convenient  as  to  the  executive 
part;  but  its  nature  is  temporary,  because  power 
is  but  a  life  rent  in  the  hands  of  a  dictator.  I 
sought  to  make  it  perpetual,  by  lasting  institu- 
tions and  corporations  for  life,  that  I  might  place 
them  between  the  throne  and  the  democracy.  I 
could  do  nothing  with  the  old  implements  of  cus- 
tom and  delusion.  I  was  obliged  to  create  every 
thing  anew  by  realities. 

Thus  I  was  forced  to  found  my  legislature 
upon  the  immediate  interests  of  the  majority,  and 
to  create  my  corporations  by  that  interest,  be- 
cause interest  is  of  all  earthly  things  the  most 
real  and  durable. 

I  made  laws,  the  activity  of  which  was  stu- 
pendous, but  uniform.  Their  principle  was  to 


53 

maintain  equality.  This  is  so  strongly  impressed 
upon  my  code,  that  it  of  itself  will  suffice  to  pre- 
serve it. 

I  instituted  an  intermediate  caste.  It  was 
democratical,  because  it  was  open  always  and  to 
all;  it  was  monarchical,  because  it  could  not  die 
out. 

This  body  was  to  perform  that  part  in  the  new 
system  which  the  nobility  had  acted  in  the  old; 
that  is,  to  support  the  throne.  But  it  resembled 
it  in  nothing.  The  old  nobility  existed  entirely  by 
privilege.  Mine  had  nothing  but  power.  The  old 
nobility  had  no  merit  but  that  of  being  exclusive. 
Every  man  who  had  distinguished  himself  had  a 
right  to  belong  to  the  new:  it  was  in  fact  only  a 
civic  crown.  The  people  attached  no  other  idea 
to  it.  Every  member  had  deserved  it  by  his  ac- 
tions; every  man  might  obtain  it  at  the  same 
price;  it  was  offensive  to  none. 

The  spirit  of  empire  was  the  main  spring  of 
action;  it  is  the  characteristic  of  revolutions.  It 
agitated  the  whole  nation.  It  appeared  almost  in 
a  state  of  conspiracy,  that  it  might  rise.  I  held 
out  great  rewards  to  this  extraordinary  activity; 
they  were  bestowed  by  public  gratitude.  The 
highest  honours  were  still  conformable  to  the 
spirit  of  equality;  for  the  meanest  soldier  might 
obtain  them  by  a  brilliant  action. 


54 

After  the  confusion  of  the  republic,  it  was  of 
consequence  to  re-establish  good  order,  because 
it  is  the  sign  of  strength  and  durability. 

Ministers  and  judges  were  essential  to  the 
state,  because  on  them  alone  the  maintenance  of 
good  order,  that  is,  in  other  words,  the  execution 
of  the  laws  depend.  I  included  them  in  the  move- 
ments of  the  people  and  the  army.  I  included 
them  also  in  the  same  system  of  rewards.  I 
erected  an  order  which  should  confer  distinction 
upon  ministers ;  because  it  had  received  the  brevet 
of  honour  from  the  soldiers.  I  made  it  common 
to  all  the  servants  of  the  public,  because  the  first 
of  virtues  is  devotion  to  one's  country. 

Thus  I  converted  the  spring  of  empire  into  a 
general  bond;  which  united  all  the  classes  in  the 
nation  by  a  mutual  interest ;  for  no  class  was  sub- 
ordinate, no  class  was  exclusive.  An  interme- 
diate body,  culled  from  the  flower  of  the  nation, 
formed  around  me.  It  was  attached  to  the  im- 
perial system  by  its  avocations,  its  interests,  and 
its  opinions.  This  numerous  body,  although  in- 
vested with  the  civil  and  military  power,  was  ac- 
knowledged by  the  people,  because  it  was  chosen 
from  among  themselves.  They  confided  in  it,  be- 
cause their  interests  were  the  same  with  its  own. 
This  body  was  neither  oppressive  nor  exclusive. 
It  was  in  reality  a  magistracy. 


55 

The  empire  rested  on  a  vigorous  organization. 
The  army  had  been  formed  in  the  school  of  war, 
where  it  had  learned  to  fight  and  to  suffer. 

The  civil  magistrates  had  accustomed  them- 
selves to  a  strict  execution  of  the  laws,  because 
I  forbad  either  compromise  or  explanation.  Thus 
they  became  possessed  of  practice  and  dispatch.  I 
had  given  a  regular  and  uniform  impulse,  because 
there  was  but  one  watch-word  throughout  the  em- 
pire. Thus  every  spring  in  the  machine  was  in 
motion,  but  the  movements  took  place  only  within 
the  bounds  I  had  assigned. 

I  put  a  stop  to  public  dilapidation  by  making 
one  central  point  for  all  exchequer  business.  I  left 
nothing  vague  in  this  department;  because  every 
thing  should  be  clear  with  regard  to  money.  I 
left  nothing  in  the  power  of  the  demi-responsible 
provincial  officers,  because  I  had  found,  by  ex- 
perience, that  such  a  plan  serves  only  to  enrich  a 
few  petty  peculators  at  the  expense  of  the  treas- 
ury, the  people,  and  the  government. 

I  redeemed  public  credit  by  taking  nothing  on 
credit. 

For  the  system  of  loans,  which  had  ruined 
France,  I  substituted  that  of  taxation,  which  has 
supported  it. 

I  organized  the  conscription— a  severe  but 
grand  law,  and  well  worthy  of  a  people  which 


56 

cherishes  its  glory  and  its  liberty,  for  it  should  en- 
trust its  defence  to  none  hut  itself. 

I  opened  new  channels  of  commerce.  I  joined 
Italy  to  France  by  cutting  through  the  Alps  in 
four  different  places.  The  works  of  that  kind, 
which  I  undertook,  appear  almost  impossible. 

I  caused  agriculture  to  prosper  by  maintain- 
ing the  laws  which  protect  private  property,  and 
by  distributing  the  public  burdens  equally. 

I  added  great  monuments  to  those  already 
possessed  by  France.  They  were  to  be  the  memor- 
ials of  its  glory.  I  thought  they  would  ennoble 
the  minds  of  our  descendants.  The  people  become 
attached  to  these  proud  land-marks  of  their  his- 
tory. 

My  throne  shone  only  with  the  lustre  of  arms. 
The  French  love  grandeur  even  in  its  outward 
show.  I  caused  palaces  to  be  decorated.  I  as- 
sembled a  numerous  court:  I  gave  it  a  character 
of  austerity,  for  any  other  would  have  been  in- 
congruous. There  were  no  amusements  at  my 
court.  Therefore  women  played  but  an  insignifi- 
cant part,  where  every  thing  was  consecrated  to 
the  state.  Indeed  they  always  detested  me  for  that 
reason.  Louis  XV.  suited  them  much  better. 

My  great  work  was  hardly  sketched  out  when 
a  new  enemy  appeared  unexpectedly  in  the  lists. 

Prussia  had  remained  at  peace  for  ten  years; 


57 

France  had  been  grateful  for  it;  the  allies  were 
enraged  at  it:  they  had  abused  her,  but  she  had 
prospered. 

Her  neutrality  had  been  of  peculiar  import- 
ance to  me  during  the  last  campaign;  to  secure  it 
I  had  made  some  overtures  respecting  a  cession  of 
Hanover.  I  thought  such  an  offer  amply  compen- 
sated for  a  small  violation  of  territory  which  I 
had  permitted  myself,  in  order  to  accelerate  the 
march  of  a  division  which  I  was  in  haste  to  get  to 
the  Danube. 

England  had  rejected  the  proposals  for  peace 
which  we  had  transmitted  to  her  according  to  our 
custom,  when  we  signed  the  treaty  of  Tilsit. 
Prussia  demanded  the  cession  of  Hanover. 

I  asked  no  better  than  to  bestow  such  a  boon 
upon  her ;  but  I  thought  it  high  time  for  her  court 
to  declare  itself  frankly  for  us,  by  embracing  our 
system  in  good  earnest.  We  could  not  do  every 
thing  by  the  sword;  policy  owed  us  some  allies; 
and  this  appeared  a  fair  opportunity  for  gaining 
one. 

But  I  perceived  that  Prussia  had  no  such  in- 
tentions, and  that  she  thought  I  was  amply  repaid 
by  her  neutrality.  It  therefore  became  absurd  to 
aggrandise  a  country  I  could  not  depend  upon.  I 
was  out  of  humour;  and  did  not  calculate  suffic- 
iently that,  by  giving  territory  to  Prussia,  I  should 


58 

compromise  her,  that  is,  make  sure  of  her.  I  re- 
fused every  thing,  and  Hanover  was  otherwise  dis- 
posed of. 

The  Prussians  complained  loudly  because  I 
would  not  give  them  the  property  of  another. 
They  murmured  at  the  slight  violation  of  their 
territory  the  preceding  year.  They  suddenly 
found  out  that  they  were  the  guardians  of  the 
glory  of  Frederick  the  Great;  they  grew  warm. 
A  sort  of  national  tumult  agitated  the  nobility; 
England  hastened  to  subsidize  them,  and  their 
movements  acquired  consistency. 

If  the  Prussians  had  attacked  me  while  I  was 
at  war  with  Russia,  they  might  have  done  me  a 
serious  injury ;  but  it  was  so  absurd  to  come,  right 
or  wrong,  and  declare  war  against  us,  more  in  the 
manner  of  a  school-boy's  rebellion  than  any  thing 
else,  that  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  credit  it. 

Nothing  was,  however,  more  true;  and  we 
were  again  obliged  to  take  the  field. 

I  certainly  expected  to  beat  the  Prussians ;  but 
I  thought  it  would  take  more  time.  I  took  meas- 
ures against  such  aggressions  as  I  suspected  might 
be  made  against  me  in  other  quarters ;  but  I  found 
them  unnecessary. 

By  a  singular  chance,  the  Prussians  did  not 
hold  out  two  hours.  By  another  accident  their 
generals  had  never  thought  of  defending  places 


59 

that  might  have  held  out  three  months.  I  was 
master  of  the  country  in  a  few  days. 

The  celerity  of  this  overthrow  proved  to  me, 
that  the  war  had  not  been  popular  in  Prussia.  I 
ought  to  have  profited  by  this  discovery,  and  to 
have  organized  Prussia  after  our  own  plans;  but 
I  did  not  know  how  to  set  about  it. 

The  Empire  had  acquired  an  immense  pre- 
ponderance by  the  battle  of  Jena.  The  public  be- 
gan to  look  upon  my  cause  as  won :  I  perceived  it 
by  the  change  of  measures  towards  me:  I  began 
to  believe  the  same  thing  myself;  and  this  opinion 
made  me  commit  some  errors. 

The  system  on  which  I  had  founded  the  empire 
was  innately  at  variance  with  all  the  ancient 
dynasties.  I  knew  that  there  must  be  mortal 
strife  between  them  and  me.  Vigorous  means 
were  therefore  to  be  taken  to  shorten  it  as  much 
as  possible,  in  order  to  gain  the  suffrages  of  kings 
and  nations. 

On  the  one  hand  I  should  have  changed  the 
form  and  personal  government  of  all  the  states 
that  war  placed  at  my  disposal,  because  revolu- 
tions are  not  brought  about  by  keeping  the  same 
men  and  the  same  measures.  I  was  certain,  by 
the  very  act  of  maintaining  those  governments,  of 
having  them  always  against  me:  it  was  recalling 
my  enemies  to  life. 


60 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  chose  to  retain  the  old 
governments  for  want  of  better,  I  ought  to  have 
made  them  accomplices  in  my  greatness,  by  forc- 
ing them  to  accept  of  titles  and  territory  together 
with  my  alliance. 

By  following  either  of  these  plans,  according  to 
circumstances,  I  should  have  extended  the  fron- 
tiers of  the  revolution  rapidly.  Our  alliances 
would  have  been  solid,  because  they  would  have 
been  made  with  the  people :  I  should  have  bestowed 
on  them  the  advantages,  together  with  the  prin- 
ciples, of  the  revolution:  I  should  have  removed 
the  scourge  of  war  which  had  afflicted  them  for 
twenty  years,  and  which  ended  by  raising  them 
all  against  us. 

It  is  most  probable  that  the  majority  of  the 
nations  of  the  continent  would  have  accepted  this 
grand  alliance,  and  Europe  would  have  been  re- 
cast on  a  new  plan  analogous  to  the  state  of  her 
civilization. 

I  reasoned  well,  but  my  practice  was  contrary 
to  my  reasoning.  Instead  of  changing  the  Prus- 
sian dynasty,  as  I  had  threatened,  I  restored  their 
estates,  after  having  parcelled  them  out.  Poland 
was  not  pleased,  because  I  did  not  free  the  portion 
of  her  territory  that  Prussia  had  seized.  The 
kingdom  of  Westphalia  was  discontented  at  not 


61 

obtaining  more;  and  Prussia,  enraged  at  what  I 
had  taken  away,  vowed  eternal  hatred  towards 
me. 

I  fancied,  I  know  not  why,  that  kings,  dis- 
possessed by  the  right  of  conquest,  might  become 
grateful  for  any  part  of  their  dominions  that 
might  be  left  them.  I  fancied  that  they  might, 
after  all  their  reverses,  become  sincere  allies,  be- 
cause it  was  safest  to  do  so.  I  fancied  that  I 
might  thus  extend  the  connexions  of  the  empire 
without  taking  on  myself  the  odium  of  revolution. 
I  thought  there  was  something  noble  in  taking 
away  and  restoring  crowns.  I  allowed  myself  to 
be  seduced  by  it.  I  was  mistaken,  and  such  faults 
can  never  be  repaired. 

I  tried  at  least  to  correct  what  I  had  done  in 
Prussia,  by  organising  the  confederation  of  the 
Rhine,  because  I  hoped  to  keep  one  in  check  by 
the  other.  To  form  this  confederation,  I  ag- 
grandised the  states  of  some  sovereigns,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  those  of  a  rabble  of  petty  princes,  who 
answered  no  end  but  that  of  dissipating  the  money 
of  their  subjects,  without  doing  them  any  good.  I 
thus  attached  to  my  cause  the  sovereigns  whose 
power  I  had  enlarged,  by  the  very  interest  of  their 
aggrandizement.  I  made  them  conquerors  in  spite 
of  themselves.  But  they  found  the  trade  agree 
with  them.  They  were  sufficiently  willing  to  make 


62 

common  cause  with  me,  and  they  were  faithful  to 
that  cause  as  long  as  it  was  possible. 

The  continent  was  thus  at  peace  for  the  fourth 
time.  I  had  extended  the  surface  and  the  weight 
of  the  Empire.  My  immediate  power  extended 
from  the  Adriatic  to  the  mouths  of  the  Weser :  my 
power  over  opinion  throughout  all  Europe. 

But  Europe  felt,  as  I  did,  that  this  pacification 
was  only  a  provisional  work;  because  there  were 
too  many  resisting  elements,  and  that  in  treating 
with  these  resistances,  which  I  was  in  the  wrong 
to  do,  I  had  only  put  off  the  evil  day. 

England  was  the  vital  principle  of  resistance. 
I  had  no  means  of  attacking  it  hand  to  hand,  and 
I  was  sure  that  the  continental  war  would  be  per- 
petually renewed  as  long  as  the  English  ministry 
had  wherewith  to  pay  its  expenses.  This  might 
last  a  good  while,  as  the  profits  of  the  war  would 
feed  the  war.  It  was  a  vicious  circle,  the  result 
of  which  must  be  the  ruin  of  the  Continent.  A 
means  was  therefore  to  be  devised  for  destroying 
the  profits  which  England  derived  from  maritime 
war,  in  order  to  ruin  the  credit  of  the  English 
ministry.  To  this  end  the  continental  system  was 
proposed  to  me.  I  thought  it  good,  and  adopted  it. 
Few  people  understood  that  system;  they  deter- 
mined to  see  nothing  in  it  but  a  scheme  to  raise 


63 

the  price  of  coffee.  Its  design  was  widely  differ- 
ent. 

It  was  to  have  ruined  the  trade  of  England. 
But  in  that  it  failed  of  its  purpose,  because  it,  like 
other  prohibitions,  produced  increased  prices, 
which  are  always  favourable  to  commerce;  and 
because  it  could  not  be  so  complete  as  to  prevent 
a  contraband  trade. 

But  the  continental  system  was  also  to  answer 
the  purpose  of  plainly  marking  out  our  friends 
and  foes.  There  could  be  no  deception  here.— At- 
tachment to  the  continental  system  betokened  at- 
tachment to  our  cause,  because  that  system  was  at 
once  our  banner  and  palladium. 

This  contested  system  was  indispensable  at  the 
time  I  adopted  it;  for  a  great  empire  must  not 
only  have  a  general  tendency  to  direct  its  policy, 
but  its  economy  ought  to  have  a  parallel  direction. 
Industry  must  have  a  vent  like  every  thing  else, 
in  order  to  act  and  to  advance.  Now  France  had 
none  at  the  time  I  opened  one  by  establishing  the 
continental  system. 

Before  the  Revolution  the  economy  of  France 
had  been  turned  towards  the  colonies,  and  ex- 
change. It  was  the  fashion  of  the  day.  It  had 
great  success.  But  however  much  that  success 
might  be  extolled,  its  only  consequence  was  the 
ruin  of  the  state  finance,  the  destruction  of  public 


64 

credit,  the  overthrow  of  the  military  system,  the 
loss  of  all  respect  abroad,  and  the  ruin  of  agri- 
culture. And  finally,  these  successes  had  led 
France  to  sign  a  treaty  of  commerce,  which  made 
her  dependant  on  England  for  supplies. 

France,  indeed,  possessed  fine  seaports,  and 
some  merchants  of  enormous  fortune. 

The  maritime  system  had  been  completely 
destroyed  by  the  war;  the  sea-ports  were  ruined: 
no  human  power  could  restore  to  them  what  the 
revolution  had  annihilated.  It  therefore  required 
a  fresh  impulse  to  be  given  to  the  spirit  of  trade, 
in  order  to  revive  the  domestic  industry  of 
France.  The  only  means  to  accomplish  this  was 
to  deprive  England  of  the  monopoly  of  manufac- 
tures, to  create  a  manufacturing  interest,  and  to 
include  it  in  the  general  economy  of  the  state.  I 
was  forced  to  create  the  continental  system. 

Nothing  less  than  this  system  could  avail,  be- 
cause the  manufactures  required  an  enormous 
premium  to  induce  capitalists  to  advance  the  sums 
necessary  for  the  establishment  of  the  whole 
manufactories  of  a  country. 

The  event  was  in  my  favour;  I  removed  the 
seat  of  industry,  and  made  it  cross  the  sea.  It 
has  made  such  rapid  strides  on  the  Continent,  that 
it  has  now  nothing  to  fear.  If  France  wishes  to 
thrive,  let  her  keep  my  system,  and  change  its 


65 

name ;  if  she  chooses  to  fall  off,  let  her  engage  in 
maritime  pursuits,  which  the  English  will  destroy 
the  first  time  they  go  to  war.  I  was  forced  to 
carry  the  continental  system  to  extremities,  be- 
cause I  had  in  view  not  only  the  good  of  France, 
but  the  annoyance  of  England.  We  could  receive 
colonial  produce  only  through  her,  whatever  flag 
might  be  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  therefore  we 
received  as  little  as  possible.  There  was  no  bet- 
ter way  of  doing  this  than  raising  the  prices  to  an 
extravagant  height.  The  political  end  was  ful- 
filled ;  the  exchequer  gained  by  it,  but  it  drove  the 
old  woman  to  despair,  and  they  have  had  their  re- 
venge. Daily  experience  proved  the  expediency 
of  the  continental  system,  for  the  state  flourished 
in  spite  of  the  burden  of  the  war.  The  taxes  were 
entire;  public  credit  was  equal  to  the  interest  of 
money ;  the  spirit  of  improvement  appeared  in  ag- 
riculture as  well  as  manufactures;  country  vil- 
lages, not  less  than  the  streets  of  Paris,  were  re- 
built; roads  and  canals  encouraged  the  industry 
of  the  interior;  some  new  improvement  appeared 
weekly:  I  made  sugar  from  turnips,  and  soda 
from  salt.  The  development  of  science  kept  pace 
with  industry. 

It  would  have  been  folly  to  depart  from  a  sys- 
tem at  the  very  moment  when  it  was  producing  its 
fruits.  It  required  to  be  strengthened  rather, 


66 

that  it  might  have  a  greater  hold  on  commercial 
emulation. 

This  influenced  the  policy  of  Europe,  inasmuch 
as  it  obliged  England  to  carry  on  the  war.  From 
that  moment  the  war  assumed  a  serious  character 
in  England;  it  threatened  the  fortune  of  the  pub- 
lic, that  is,  its  very  existence.  It  became  popular. 
The  English  ceased  to  commit  their  defence  to  for- 
eign auxiliaries ;  they  took  it  upon  themselves,  and 
appeared  on  the  Continent  in  large  bodies.  The 
struggle  had  never  been  perilous  till  then.  I 
foersaw  it  when  I  signed  the  decree.  I  sus- 
pected that  all  repose  was  at  an  end  for  me,  and 
that  my  life  would  be  spent  in  wrestling  with  ob- 
stacles which  the  public  had  lost  sight  of,  but  of 
which  I  possessed  the  secret,  because  I  am  the  only 
man  whom  appearances  never  deceived.  In  my 
heart  I  flattered  myself  that  I  should  be  master  of 
the  future,  by  means  of  the  army  I  had  formed, 
so  invincible  did  success  seem  to  have  made  it.  It 
never  doubted  of  victory ;  it  was  easily  moved,  be- 
cause we  had  exploded  the  system  of  camps  and 
magazines.  It  could  be  transported  in  any  direc- 
tion at  a  moment's  warning;  and  wherever  it  ar- 
rived it  felt  a  conscious  superiority.  With  such 
soldiers,  where  is  the  general  who  would  not  have 
loved  glory  ?  I  loved  it,  I  own ;  and  yet,  since  the 
battle  of  Jena  I  had  never  felt  that  plentitude  of 


67 

confidence,  that  contempt  of  consequences,  to 
which  I  owed  my  first  successes.  I  distrusted  my- 
self ;  that  distrust  made  me  uncertain  in  my  decis- 
ions :  my  temper  was  ruffled,  my  character  lowered. 
I  did  command  myself,  but  what  is  not  natural  is 
never  perfect. 

The  continental  system  had  determined  the 
English  to  war  with  us  even  to  the  death.  The 
North  was  subdued  and  overawed  by  my  garri- 
sons. The  English  had  no  connection  with  it  but 
in  smuggling;  but  Portugal  had  been  given  up 
to  them;  and  I  knew  that  Spain,  under  the  mask 
of  neutrality,  favoured  her  commerce. 

But  that  the  continental  system  should  be  of 
real  use,  it  required  to  be  complete.  I  had  nearly 
accomplished  it  in  the  north ;  it  was  of  consequence 
to  cause  it  to  be  respected  in  the  south.  I  de- 
manded a  passage  through  Spain  for  a  division  of 
troops  I  wanted  to  send  into  Portugal.  It  was 
granted.  At  the  approach  of  my  troops  the  court 
of  Lisbon  embarked  for  the  Brazils,  and  left  me 
its  kingdom.  I  required  a  military  road  through 
Spain  to  communicate  with  Portugal.  This  road 
connected  us  with  Spain.  Till  then  I  had  never 
thought  of  that  country,  on  account  of  its  inef- 
ficiency. 

The  political  state  of  Spain  was  at  that  time 
alarming;  it  was  governed  by  the  most  incapable 


68 

of  sovereigns :  a  brave  and  worthy  man,  whose  en- 
ergies went  no  farther  than  to  secure  implicit 
obedience  to  the  favourite.  The  favourite,  with- 
out character  and  without  talents,  had  neither  pur- 
suit nor  energy,  but  what  were  employed  in  inces- 
sant demands  for  titles  and  riches. 

The  favourite  was  devoted  to  me,  because  he 
found  it  convenient  to  govern  under  the  shadow 
of  an  alliance  with  me.  But  he  had  conducted  af- 
fairs so  ill,  that  his  credit  had  sunk  in  Spain.  He 
could  no  longer  command  obedience.  His  devo- 
tion became  unavailing. 

Public  opinion  in  Spain  had  been  proceeding  in 
a  line  contrary  to  that  of  the  rest  of  Europe.  The 
people,  which  every  where  else  had  risen  to  the 
level  of  the  revolution,  had  remained  here  far  be- 
neath it;  enlightened  notions  had  not  even  pene- 
trated to  the  second  layer  of  the  nation.  They 
had  remained  on  the  surface;  that  is,  they  were 
confined  to  the  highest  classes. — These  felt  the 
degradation  of  their  country,  and  blushed  to  obey 
a  government  which  was  debasing  their  native 
land.  They  were  called  the  Liberales. 

Thus  the  revolutionists  in  Spain  were  those 
who  might  lose  by  a  revolution;  and  those  who 
had  all  to  gain  would  not  hear  of  it.  The  same 
incongruity  operated  at  Naples.  It  made  me  com- 


69 

mit  many  errors,  because  I  was  not  then  possessed 
of  the  key  to  the  mystery. 

The  presence  of  my  troops  in  Spain  was  an 
event.  Every  body  set  about  interpreting  it.  Peo- 
ple were  occupied  by  it.  Some  fermentation  ap- 
peared. I  soon  learned  it.  The  liberates  were  sen- 
sible of  the  humiliation  of  their  country;  they 
thought  to  prevent  its  ruin  by  a  conspiracy:  the 
conspiracy  succeeded. 

It  went  no  further  than  forcing  the  old  king 
to  abdicate,  and  punishing  his  favourite.  Spain 
was  no  gainer  by  the  exchange,  for  the  son  they 
placed  on  the  throne  was  no  better  than  the  father. 
I  am  well  informed  at  least  on  that  head. 

The  conspiracy  had  scarcely  succeeded,  when 
the  conspirators  took  fright  at  their  own  daring. 
They  were  afraid  of  themselves,  of  me,  of  every 
body.  The  monks  disapproved  of  the  violence 
committed  against  their  old  king,  because  it  was 
illegitimate.  I  disapproved  of  it  no  less,  but  for 
a  different  reason.  Fear  took  possession  of  the 
new  court;  the  spirit  of  revolt  seized  the  people, 
and  anarchy  the  state. 

The  natural  course  of  things  had  thus  brought 
about  a  change  in  Spain ;  a  revolution  in  fact  was 
begun.  It  could  not  be  of  the  same  nature  as  that 
in  France,  because  it  was  composed  of  different 
elements.  But  till  then  it  had  no  direction,  be- 


70 

cause  it  had  neither  chief  nor  partizan  before- 
hand. It  was  as  yet  only  a  suspension  of  author- 
ity; a  subversion  of  power;  in  short,  disorder. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  predicted  concerning 
Spain,  but  that  with  so  ignorant  and  fierce  a  peo- 
ple a  revolution  could  not  be  accomplished  with- 
out torrents  of  blood  and  a  long  series  of  calam- 
ity. 

But  what  was  the  end  proposed  by  those  who 
wished  for  a  change  in  Spain?  It  was  not  a  revo- 
lution like  ours :  it  was  an  efficient  government :  a 
rational  authority  which  might  remove  the  rust 
which  obscured  their  country,  and  restore  it  to 
consideration  abroad,  and  civilization  at  home. 

I  was  able  to  give  them  both,  by  making  my- 
self master  of  their  revolution  at  the  point  to 
which  they  had  brought  it.  The  object  was  to  give 
Spain  a  dynasty,  which  should  be  strong  because 
it  was  new,  and  enlightened  because  it  should 
bring  with  it  no  prejudices.  Mine  combined  these 
qualities.  I  therefore  resolved  to  bestow  this 
crown  also  upon  it. 

The  most  difficult  step  towards  this  end  was 
taken — that  of  getting  rid  of  the  old  dynasty. 
Now  the  Spaniards  had  allowed  their  old  king  to 
be  forced  to  abdicate  the  crown,  and  they  would 
not  acknowledge  the  new  one.  Every  thing  there- 
fore seemed  to  promise,  that  in  order  to  avoid  an- 


71 

archy,  Spain  would  be  glad  to  accept  a  sovereign 
armed  with  a  prodigious  power.  By  that  means 
it  would  have  easily  stept  into  the  imperial  circle ; 
and  however  deplorable  the  social  state  of  Spain 
might  be,  it  was  a  conquest  not  to  be  neglected. 

As,  in  order  to  form  a  just  idea  of  things,  one 
should  see  them  one's  self,  I  set  out  for  Bayonne; 
to  which  place  I  had  invited  the  old  Spanish  court. 
As  it  had  nothing  better  to  do,  it  came.  I  had  also 
invited  the  new  court.  I  really  did  not  expect  it  to 
arrive,  because  it  had  something  much  better  to 
do. 

I  had  calculated,  that  to  prevent  Ferdinand 
from  meeting  either  his  father  or  me,  they  would 
have  led  him  to  revolt,  or  engaged  him  to  go  to 
America.  But  he  did  neither,  but  came  to  Bay- 
onne with  his  tutor  and  courtiers,  leaving  Spain 
to  the  first  comer. 

This  single  step  gave  me  the  measure  of  the 
court.  I  had  scarce  spoken  to  the  heads  of  the 
conspiracy,  when  I  perceived  their  total  ignorance 
of  their  real  situation.  They  were  prepared  for 
nothing,  therefore  saw  nothing;  their  policy 
seemed  like  the  blind  leading  the  blind*.  I  had 
scarcely  seen  the  king  they  had  set  upon  the 


*  Us  menaient  leur  politique  comme  les  quinze  vingt,  i.  e. 
the  inhabitants  of  the  asylum  for  the  blind  so  named. 


72 

throne  before  I  was  satisfied  that  Spain  ought  not 
to  be  left  in  such  hands. 

I  then  resolved  to  accept  the  abdication  of  this 
family,  and  to  place  one  of  my  brothers  on  the 
throne  now  abandoned  by  its  old  possessors ;  they 
had  descended  from  it  so  easily,  that  I  thought  he 
might  mount  it  with  as  little  difficulty. 

In  fact,  nothing  seemed  to  oppose  it ;  the  Junta 
of  Bayonne  had  acknowledged  him ;  no  legal  pow- 
er remained  in  Spain  to  refuse  the  change;  the 
old  king  seemed  grateful  to  me  for  taking  the 
throne  from  his  son,  and  had  retired  quietly  to  re- 
pose himself  at  Compiegne.  His  son  was  con- 
ducted to  the  castle  of  Valencay,  where  all  neces- 
sary preparations  had  been  made  for  his  recep- 
tion. 

The  Spaniards  knew  exactly  what  they  had 
parted  with  in  their  old  king;  he  left  behind  him 
neither  regret  nor  remembrance;  but  the  son  was 
yet  young ;  his  reign  had  been  hoped  for.  He  was 
unfortunate ;  they  converted  him  into  a  hero :  im- 
agination exerted  itself  in  his  favour.  The  Lib- 
erales  clamoured  for  national  independence;  the 
monks  talked  of  legitimacy:  the  whole  nation 
armed  itself  under  these  two  pretexts. 

I  confess  I  was  wrong  to  shut  up  the  young 
king  at  Valencay.  I  ought  to  have  allowed  him  to 


73 

shew  himself,  in  order  to  undeceive  those  who  took 
an  interest  in  him. 

I  was  especially  in  the  wrong  not  to  let  him 
stay  upon  the  throne.  Things  would  have  grown 
worse  and  worse  in  Spain.  I  should  have  ac- 
quired the  title  of  protector  of  the  old  king,  by 
giving  him  an  asylum.  The  new  government  could 
not  have  failed  to  commit  itself  with  England.  I 
should  have  declared  war  both  on  my  own  account, 
and  as  plenipotentiary  for  the  old  king.  Spain 
would  have  trusted  her  army  to  fight  her  battles, 
and  as  soon  as  I  had  beaten  it,  the  nation  must 
have  submitted  to  the  right  of  conquest.  It  would 
not  even  have  dreamed  of  murmuring,  because  in 
disposing  of  a  conquered  country  one  only  follows 
established  customs. 

If  I  had  been  more  patient  I  should  have  fol- 
lowed this  plan,  but  I  thought  that  the  result  being 
the  same,  the  Spaniards  would  accept  beforehand 
a  change  of  dynasty  which  the  state  of  affairs  ren- 
dered inevitable.  I  managed  this  affair  awkward- 
ly, because  I  passed  over  the  regular  gradations. 
I  had  displaced  the  ancient  race  of  kings  in  a  way 
offensive  to  the  Spaniards.  Their  wounded  pride 
would  not  acknowledge  the  race  I  had  put  in  its 
stead.  The  result  was,  that  there  was  no  author- 
ity any  where,  or  rather  it  was  every  where.  The 
whole  nation  fancied  itself  called  upon  to  defend 


74 

the  state,  since  there  was  neither  army  nor  author- 
ity to  which  that  defence  could  be  committed. 
Each  man  took  the  responsibility  on  himself ;  I  had 
created  anarchy,  and  found  all  the  resources  it  can 
furnish  turned  against  me.  The  whole  nation  fell 
upon  me. 

The  Spanish  nation,  whose  history  records 
nothing  but  acts  of  avarice  and  ferocity,  was  not 
formidable  face  to  face  with  an  enemy.  Its  people 
fled  at  the  very  sight  of  our  soldiers,  but  they 
stabbed  them  in  the  back.  They  were  exasperated, 
and  used  reprisals.  One  reprisal  caused  a  second, 
and  the  war  became  a  tissue  of  atrocity. 

I  felt  that  it  gave  a  character  of  violence  to  my 
reign.  That  it  was  an  example  dangerous  to  the 
people,  and  fatal  to  the  army;  because  it  con- 
sumed the  men  and  fatigued  the  soldiers. 

I  felt  that  I  had  begun  ill;  but  when  once  a 
war  was  fairly  entered  upon,  it  was  impossible  to 
abandon  it:  for  the  very  smallest  reverse  gave 
spirit  to  my  enemies,  and  all  Europe  instantly  got 
under  arms.  I  was  obliged  to  be  always  victor- 
ious. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  was  put  to  trial. 

I  had  gone  to  Spain  in  order  to  accelerate 
events,  and  to  examine  the  ground  on  which  I  had 
to  leave  my  brother.  I  had  occupied  Madrid,  and 
destroyed  the  English  army  which  was  advancing 


75 

to  its  relief.  My  success  was  rapid :  terror  was  at 
its  height ;  resistance  seemed  about  to  cease ;  there 
was  not  an  instant  to  lose;  neither  was  any  time 
lost.  The  English  ministry  armed  Austria.  They 
were  always  as  active  in  raising  enemies  as  I 
could  be  in  beating  them. 

This  time  the  intrigues  of  Austria  were  skil- 
fully conducted ;  they  took  me  by  surprise.  I  must 
give  praise  where  it  is  due. 

My  troops  were  scattered  at  Naples,  at  Madrid, 
at  Hamburg.  I  myself  was  in  Spain.  It  was 
probable  that  the  Austrians  might  have  been  suc- 
cessful in  the  first  instance.  This  success  might 
have  led  to  more,  for  in  these  cases  the  first  step 
is  usually  the  difficulty.  They  might  have 
tempted  Prussia  and  Kussia;  re-animated  the 
courage  of  the  Spaniards,  and  restored  popularity 
to  the  English  ministry. 

The  court  of  Vienna  maintains  a  tenacious  pol- 
icy, that  is  never  disconcerted  by  passing  events. 
It  was  long  before  I  discovered  the  reason.  I  per- 
ceived, a  little  too  late,  indeed,  that  this  policy  was 
so  deeply  rooted,  only  because  the  good  nature  of 
the  government  had  allowed  the  state  to  degener- 
ate into  an  oligarchy.  The  country  is  led  by  about 
a  hundred  noblemen;  they  possess  the  soil,  and 
have  seized  upon  the  exchequer,  the  cabinet,  and 
the  army,  by  which  means  they  are  the  real  rulers, 


76 

and  have  left  to  the  court  no  more  than  the  hon- 
our of  the  signature. 

Now  oligarchies  never  change  their  opinions, 
because  their  interest  is  always  the  same.  They 
do  every  thing  ill ;  but  they  always  continue  doing, 
because  they  cannot  die  out.  They  never  succeed ; 
but  they  support  reverses  admirably,  because  they 
support  them  in  concert. 

Austria  has  owed  her  safety  four  times  to  this 
form  of  government:  it  decided  for  the  war  she 
had  just  declared  against  me. 

I  had  not  a  moment  to  lose.  I  left  Spain 
abruptly,  and  flew  to  the  Rhine.  I  got  together 
the  troops  nearest  at  hand:  Prince  Eugene  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  beaten  in  Italy :  I  sent  him 
some  reinforcements.  The  kings  of  Swabia  and 
Bavaria  lent  me  their  troops ;  with  them  I  beat  the 
Austrians  at  Ratisbon,  and  marched  towards 
Vienna. 

I  advanced  by  forced  marches  along  the  right 
bank  of  the  Danube ;  I  depended  on  the  viceroy  to 
secure  our  junction.  I  intended  to  get  before  the 
Austrians  to  Vienna,  to  cross  the  Danube  there, 
and  to  take  up  a  position  to  receive  the  arch- 
duke. 

This  plan  was  well  conceived;  but  it  was  im- 
prudent, because  I  had  to  cope  with  a  man  of  tal- 


77 

ent,  and  because  I  had  not  enough  troops.  But 
fortune  was  then  on  my  side. 

In  return,  the  archduke  made  a  very  able 
movement:  he  divined  my  object,  and  gained  upon 
me.  He  threw  himself  rapidly  upon  Vienna  by 
the  left  bank  of  the  Danube,  and  took  up  his  posi- 
tion at  the  same  time  with  me.  As  far  as  I  know, 
this  is  the  only  able  movement  the  Austrians  ever 
made. 

My  plan  had  failed :  I  was  in  presence  of  a  for- 
midable army :  it  commanded  my  movements,  and 
forced  me  to  remain  inactive.  Nothing  now  but 
a  great  battle  could  put  an  end  to  the  war.  It  was 
my  business  to  attack ;  the  archduke  had  given  me 
that  part  to  play :  it  was  not  easy ;  for  he  was  in  a 
position  to  receive  me. 

By  an  unhoped  for  piece  of  good  fortune,  the 
archduke  John,  who  should,  at  all  hazards,  have 
kept  back  the  viceroy,  allowed  himself  to  be  beat- 
en. The  army  of  Italy  drove  him  from  the  other 
side  of  the  Danube,  and  we  gained  the  assistance 
of  its  right  wing. 

But  as  we  could  not  remain  there  for  ever,  we 
were  obliged  to  come  to  action.  I  caused  pon- 
toons to  be  thrown  across  the  river.  The  army 
began  to  move.  Marshal  Massena's  division  was 
the  first  that  crossed;  he  began  his  fire,  when  an 
accident  carried  away  the  pontoons.  It  was  im- 


78 

possible  to  replace  them  in  time  to  sustain  him: 
he  was  attacked  by  the  whole  hostile  army.  The 
division  maintained  its  ground  with  valour  which 
might  be  called  heroic,  for  it  was  hopeless.  Their 
ammunition  had  failed :  they  were  on  the  point  of 
destruction — when  the  Austrians  ceased  firing, 
thinking  that  sufficient  to  the  day  was  the  evil 
thereof.  They  recovered  their  position  at  a  de- 
cisive moment,  and  delivered  me  from  the  most 
cruel  anxiety. 

Nevertheless,  we  had  sustained  a  reverse  of 
fortune :  I  perceived  it  by  the  state  of  public  opin- 
ion. My  defeat  was  published ;  the  details  were  re- 
peated; my  fall  was  foretold.  The  Tyrolese  had 
revolted :  we  had  been  obliged  to  send  the  Bavarian 
army  to  that  country.  Parties  had  taken  up  arms 
in  Prussia  and  Westphalia,  and  spread  themselves 
over  the  country,  in  order  to  excite  revolt.  The 
English  undertook  an  expedition  against  Antwerp, 
which  might  have  succeeded,  but  for  their  own 
folly.  My  situation  grew  daily  worse. 

At  length  I  succeeded  in  throwing  fresh  bridges 
over  the  Danube.  The  army  crossed  the  river  dur- 
ing a  dreadful  night.  I  was  present  at  the  crossing, 
for  I  was  uneasy  about  it.  It  answered  complete- 
ly; our  columns  had  time  to  form,  and  that  great 
day  arose  with  happy  omens. 


79 

The  battle  was  grand ;  for  it  was  well  disputed. 
But  the  generals  did  not  make  any  great  efforts  of 
genius,  because  they  commanded  large  masses 
upon  a  flat  plain.  It  was  long  doubtful.  The  in- 
trepidity of  our  troops,  and  the  bold  manoeuvre  of 
Macdonald,  decided  the  fortune  of  the  day. 

Once  broken,  the  Austrian  army  marched  off  in 
disorder,  by  a  long  plain,  on  which  it  lost  a  great 
many  men.  I  pursued  them  vigorously,  because  I 
wished  to  decide  the  campaign.  Beaten  in  Mora- 
via, there  was  no  resource  but  to  sue  for  peace, 
and  I  granted  it  to  them  for  the  fourth  time. 

I  trusted  that  it  would  be  lasting,  because  peo- 
ple get  tired  of  being  beaten,  as  they  do  of  every 
thing  else;  and  because  there  was  a  considerable 
party  in  Vienna,  who  argued  in  favour  of  a  final 
alliance  with  the  empire. 

I  wished  for  peace,  because  I  felt  the  expedi- 
ency of  giving  some  respite  to  the  people :  for,  in- 
stead of  feeling  the  advantages  of  the  revolution, 
they  had  as  yet  seen  only  its  horrors.  We  were  no 
longer  protectors,  as  at  the  beginning  of  the  war; 
and  in  order  to  accustom  the  public  opinion  of 
Europe  to  the  nature  of  my  power,  it  was  not  po- 
litic to  shew  it  always  in  its  hostile  aspect. 

The  enemy's  party  assured  the  populace  that 
they  were  only  arming  to  deliver  them  from  the 


80 

evils  of  war,  and  to  lower  the  price  of  English 
goods. 

These  insinuations  made  proselytes.  The  war 
diminished  the  popularity  of  the  revolution. 
Therefore  I  desired  peace ;  but  it  was  necessary  to 
obtain  the  consent  of  the  English  ministry:  Aus- 
tria undertook  to  ask  it.  They  refused. 

This  refusal  gave  me  great  anxiety.  England 
must  have  felt  within  herself  resources  which  I 
could  not  comprehend.  I  endeavoured  to  discover 
what  these  were,  but  in  vain. 

Instead  of  laying  down  my  arms,  I  was  forced 
to  keep  up  my  war  establishment,  and  to  weary  all 
Europe.  I  was  so  much  the  more  annoyed  at  it, 
as  the  allies  had  all  the  honour  of  the  war,  though 
I  had  the  success.  For  they  had  the  innocent  air 
of  defending  those  things  that  are  called  legit- 
imate, because  they  are  old.  I,  on  the  other  hand, 
appeared  the  aggressor,  because  I  fought  to  de- 
stroy these,  and  to  set  up  what  was  new.  The 
whole  weight  of  the  accusation  lay  on  me. 

Yet  the  war  of  the  revolution  was  but  the  result 
of  the  situation  of  Europe.  It  was  the  crisis 
which  changed  its  manners.  It  was  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  the  transit  from  one  social  system 
to  another.  If  I  had  been  the  inventor  of  the  sys- 
tem, I  should  have  been  guilty  of  the  evils  it 
brought  about.  But  it  was  invented  by  nobody.  It 


81 

was  produced  by  the  current  of  the  times.  This 
current  had  silently  made  way  for  the  Revolution, 
as  it  had  done  for  the  Reformation,  and  the  evils 
that  followed  upon  it.  War  depended  no  more 
upon  me  than  upon  the  allies.  It  depended  on  the 
nature  which  the  Almighty  has  impressed  upon  hu- 
man beings. 

England  continued  the  war  without  auxiliaries, 
but  not  without  allies,  for  every  enemy  to  revolu- 
tion was  such.  We  had  an  open  field  to  fight  on  in 
Spain.  I  sent  back  my  troops  there,  but  I  did  not 
go  back  myself.  I  was  wrong:  because  nobody 
does  one's  business  so  well  as  one's  self.  But  I  was 
tired  of  all  this  commotion ;  and  I,  from  that  time, 
began  to  meditate  a  project  that  might  give  a  new 
character  to  my  reign. 

But  before  I  could  accomplish  this,  the  enemy 
embarrassed  me  in  a  quarter  from  which  I  had  no 
apprehension.  The  north  was  occupied  by  my 
troops.  The  English  were  not  strong  enough  to  at- 
tack me  in  that  point.  It  was  in  the  Mediterranean 
that  their  navy  ensured  them  superiority.  They 
possessed  Malta,  and  commanded  Sicily,  the 
shores  of  Spain,  Africa,  and  Greece.  They  sought 
to  profit  by  all  these  advantages. 

They  endeavoured  to  excite  a  re-action  in  Italy, 
and  convert  it,  if  possible,  into  a  second  Spain. 
There  were  discontented  persons  every  where,  for 


82 

I  had  not  been  able  to  give  every  body  their 
ancient  rights,  combined  with  the  advantages  of 
the  new  system.  There  were  such  in  Italy  as  well 
as  elsewhere.  The  clergy  had  no  affection  for  me, 
because  my  reign  had  put  an  end  to  theirs.  The 
devotees  followed  their  example,  and  detested  me. 
The  rabble  partook  of  the  same  feelings,  because 
the  clergy  are  still  possessed  of  influence  in  Italy. 
The  head  quarters  of  this  opposition  was  Rome,  as 
it  was  the  only  town  in  Italy  where  it  could  hope 
to  escape  my  observation.  Thence  it  held  com- 
munications with  the  English;  it  instigated  to  re- 
volt; it  insulted  me  in  anonymous  pamphlets;  it 
promulgated  false  reports.  It  procured  recruits 
for  England;  it  kept  in  pay  the  banditti  of  Car- 
dinal Ruff  a,  for  the  purpose  of  assassinat- 
ing Frenchmen;  it  attempted  to  blow  up  the  pal- 
ace of  the  minister  of  police  at  Naples.  It  was 
clear  that  the  English  had  a  plot  upon  Italy,  and 
that  they  fomented  these  disturbances. 

I  could  not  permit  this ;  I  could  not  suffer  the 
French  to  be  insulted  and  murdered.  I  contented 
myself,  however,  with  making  complaints  at  va- 
rious times  to  the  Holy  See.  I  received  civil 
answers  to  beg  I  would  take  the  thing  patiently. 
As  my  temper  was  never  very  patient,  I  saw  that 
there  was  a  decided  hostility  against  us,  and  that  I 


83 

must  outstrip  it  to  prevent  its  exploding.— I  oc- 
cupied Borne  with  my  troops. 

Instead  of  allaying  the  effervescence,  this  meas- 
ure, which  was  perhaps  a  little  violent,  irritated 
the  public.  It  however  secured  the  tranquillity  of 
Italy,  and  quashed  the  schemes  of  Lord  W.  Ben- 
tinck.  But,  in  secret,  the  whole  class  of  devotees 
did  every  thing  that  hatred  and  the  spirit  of  the 
church  could  inspire  against  me. 

This  centre  of  conspiracy  had  ramifications  in 
France  and  Switzerland.  The  clergy,  the  malcon- 
tents, the  partizans  of  the  old  order  of  things  (for 
there  were  still  such)  had  united  to  intrigue 
against  my  authority,  and  to  do  me  every  possible 
injury.  They  no  longer  appeared  as  conspirators ; 
they  had  borrowed  the  standard  of  the  church,  and 
they  used  its  thunders  instead  of  cannon.  It  was 
their  watch-word  and  their  war-cry.  It  was  a  sort 
of  orthodox  free-masonry,  which  I  could  not  lay 
hold  on  at  any  given  point,  because  it  pervaded  all 
places. 

Besides,  it  was  difficult  to  attack  these  people 
in  detail,  because  it  would  have  been  a  persecu- 
tion; but  that  is  the  business  of  the  weak,  not  of 
the  strong.  I  thought  I  could  disperse  the  party 
by  an  alarming  display  of  power.  I  determined  to 
shew  my  resolution,  and  teach  them  that  I  chose  to 


84 

maintain  order  and  authority,  and  that  I  scrupled 
at  nothing  to  accomplish  my  purpose. 

I  knew  that  nothing  could  be  so  severe  a  blow 
upon  the  party  as  to  separate  it  from  the  head  of 
the  church.  I  hesitated  long  before  I  adopted  this 
resolution,  because  it  was  against  my  wishes ;  but 
the  longer  I  delayed  it,  the  more  necessary  it  be- 
came to  decide.  I  considered  that  Charles  V.  who 
was  more  religious  than  me,  and  not  so  powerful, 
had  dared  to  make  a  Pope  prisoner.  He  was  no 
worse  for  it,  and  I  thought  I  might  at  least  attempt 
as  much.  The  Pope  was  carried  off  from  Kome, 
and  conveyed  to  Savona.  Borne  was  annexed  to 
France. 

This  stroke  of  policy  sufficed  to  confound  the 
schemes  of  the  enemy.  Italy  remained  quiet  and 
obedient  to  the  last  moment  of  the  empire.  But  the 
war  of  the  church  was  pursued  with  equal  inveter- 
acy. The  zeal  of  the  devotees  was  rekindled.  It 
became  a  secret  but  venomous  spirit  against  me. 
In  spite  of  all  my  precautions  I  could  not  prevent 
their  communicating  with  Savona,  and  receiving 
instructions.  The  monks  of  La  Trappe,  of  Fri- 
bourg,  conducted  this  correspondence;  it  was 
printed  in  their  house,  and  circulated  from  priest 
to  priest  throughout  the  empire.  It  became  nec- 
essary to  remove  the  Holy  Father  to  Fontain- 
bleau,  and  to  expel  the  monks  of  La  Trappe,  to 


85 

put  a  stop  to  these  communications.  After  all,  I 
believe  I  did  not  succeed. 

This  petty  war  had  a  bad  effect,  because  I 
could  not  prevent  it  from  wearing  the  appearance 
of  a  persecution.  I  had  been  obliged  to  proceed 
with  severity  against  unarmed  persons,  and,  in 
spite  of  myself,  to  make  victims  of  them.  These 
unhappy  disputes  with  the  church  forced  upon  me 
five  hundred  state  prisoners;  political  occasions 
never  made  fifty.  I  was  in  the  wrong  throughout 
this  affair;  I  was  strong  enough  to  have  left  the 
feeble  at  liberty,  and  I  occasioned  a  great  deal  of 
evil  by  attempting  to  prevent  it. 

A  great  project  occupied  the  state.  It  ap- 
peared to  me  to  be  of  a  nature  to  consolidate  my 
empire  by  placing  me  in  a  new  situation  with  re- 
gard to  Europe.  I  expected  important  results 
from  it. 

My  power  was  no  longer  contested;  it  only 
wanted  the  character  of  perpetuity,  which  it  could 
not  have  as  long  as  I  had  no  heir.  Without  an 
heir  my  death  would  have  been  a  moment  of  dan- 
ger to  my  dynasty;  for  authority  must  have  no 
period  fixed  beforehand,  if  it  is  not  to  be  con- 
tested. 

I  perceived  the  necessity  of  separating  myself 
from  a  wife  by  whom  I  could  no  longer  hope  for 
posterity.  I  hesitated  on  account  of  the  misery  of 


86 

quitting  the  person  whom  I  best  loved ;  it  was  long 
before  I  could  resolve  upon  it.  But  she  proposed 
it  herself,  with  that  devotedness  of  affection 
which  she  always  displayed  towards  me.  I  ac- 
cepted the  sacrifice,  because  it  was  indispensable. 
The  simplest  policy  pointed  out  to  me  an  alliance 
with  the  house  of  Austria.  The  court  of  Vienna 
was  tired  of  reverses.  By  uniting  itself  irrevoc- 
ably with  me,  it  placed  its  safety  in  my  custody. 
By  this  alliance  it  became  an  accomplice  in  my 
greatness,  and  from  that  moment  it  became  as 
much  my  interest  to  support  it  as  it  had  been  here- 
tofore to  subdue  it.  By  this  alliance  we  produced 
the  most  formidable  mass  of  power  that  had  ever 
existed;  we  surpassed  the  Roman  empire.— The 
alliance  was  formed. 

On  the  continent  there  was  nothing  without 
our  pale,  but  Eussia,  and  the  wreck  of  Prussia: 
the  rest  was  at  our  disposal.  So  vast  a  prepon- 
derance ought  to  have  discouraged  our  enemies; 
and  without  vanity  I  might  now  have  considered 
my  work  as  accomplished,  and  that  I  had  placed 
my  throne  beyond  the  reach  of  accident. 

My  calculations  were  just:  but  passion  never 
calculates.  Meantime  appearances  were  in  my 
favour.  The  continent  was  quiet,  and  seemed  to  be 
becoming  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  my  crown ;  it 
at  least  appeared  so  by  the  homage  paid  me.  It 


87 

was  so  respectful,  that  a  more  discerning  person 
than  myself  might  have  been  deceived  by  it.  The 
respect  in  which  the  blood  of  the  house  of  Aus- 
tria was  held,  rendered  my  reign  legitimate  in  the 
eyes  of  the  sovereigns  of  Europe;  and  I  believed 
that  the  title  of  the  son,  which  the  Empress  had 
just  borne,  to  the  throne,  would  not  be  disputed. 

There  were  no  disturbances  any  where  but  in 
Spain,  where  the  English  were  in  great  force. 
But  that  war  gave  me  no  uneasiness,  because  I 
was  resolved  to  be  even  more  obstinate  than  the 
Spaniards,  and  with  time  any  thing  may  be  ac- 
complished. 

The  empire  was  strong  enough  to  carry  on  the 
Spanish  war  without  inconvenience.  It  neither 
put  a  stop  to  the  decorations  with  which  I  was 
embellishing  France,  nor  to  the  useful  undertak- 
ings which  we  were  pursuing.  The  administration 
of  justice  was  improving.  I  was  organising  in- 
stitutions which  might  ensure  the  strength  of  the 
empire,  by  educating  a  generation  for  the  pur- 
poses of  its  support. 

The  necessity  of  maintaining  the  continental 
system  was  the  only  source  of  dispute  with  such 
governments  as  had  coasts  adapted  for  smuggling. 
Among  these  Russia  was  in  a  delicate  situation: 
its  civilization  was  not  sufficient  to  enable  it  to  do 
without  English  goods.  I  had  nevertheless  in- 


88 

sisted  on  their  being  prohibited ;  it  was  an  absurd- 
ity, but  it  was  necessary  to  complete  the  system  of 
exclusion.  A  contraband  trade  commenced;  I 
foresaw  it,  because  the  Eussian  government  <loes 
not  watch  well.  But  as  shut  doors  are  always 
more  difficult  to  pass  through  than  open  ones, 
smuggling  never  introduces  near  so  many  goods 
as  a  free  trade.  I  thus  obtained  two-thirds  of  my 
object ;  however,  I  did  not  complain  the  less :  they 
attempted  to  justify  themselves,  and  then  began 
anew, — we  became  angry;  such  a  state  of  things 
could  not  last. 

In  fact,  since  our  alliance  with  Austria,  a  trial 
of  strength  with  Eussia  had  become  inevitable. 
Eussia  could  not  but  perceive  that  our  political 
union  could  have  no  enemy  but  herself,  for  we 
were  masters  of  all  the  rest  of  Europe.  She  must 
therefore  content  herself  with  a  complaisant  non- 
entity, or  attempt  to  make  head  against  us  and 
maintain  her  rank.  She  was  too  strong  to  consent 
to  be  nothing ;  but  she  was  too  feeble  to  resist  us ; 
in  the  alternative  it  was  better  to  assume  an  at- 
titude of  defiance  than  to  acknowledge  herself  con- 
quered beforehand.  This  latter  part  is  always 
the  worst  to  take :  Eussia  decided  for  the  former. 

I  began  to  feel  suddenly  that  there  was  some 
haughtiness  in  the  transactions  with  Petersburg. 
They  refused  to  seize  the  contraband  goods :  they 


89 

complained  that  I  had  occupied  the  lands  of  Old- 
enburgh.  I  replied  in  the  same  tone.  It  was  clear 
that  we  were  about  to  quarrel,  for  neither  of  us 
were  patient,  and  we  were  strong  enough  to  fight. 

I  was  very  confident  as  to  the  issue  of  the 
war;  because  I  had  conceived  a  plan  by  which  I 
hoped  to  put  an  end  for  ever  to  the  long  struggle 
in  which  I  had  consumed  my  life.  Besides,  I 
thought  that  at  the  point  to  which  we  had  now  at- 
tained, the  sovereigns  of  Europe  had  no  direct  in- 
terest in  the  conflict,  for  our  interests  had  been 
identified;  the  policy  of  the  princes  should  now 
have  been  in  my  favour,  for  it  was  no  longer  my 
office  to  shake  thrones,  but  to  strengthen  them. 
I  had  added  new  strength  to  royalty,  and  in  that 
I  had  wrought  for  them.  They  were  sure  of  reign- 
ing while  in  alliance  with  me,  equally  sheltered 
from  war  and  from  revolution. 

This  policy  was  so  palpable,  that  I  thought  the 
sovereigns  clear-sighted  enough  to  perceive  it.  I 
never  distrusted  them.  Who  in  fact  would  have 
guessed  that,  seduced  by  their  hatred  against  me, 
they  would  have  abandoned  the  cause  of  the 
throne,  and  themselves  have  brought  back  a  rev- 
olution among  their  people,  to  which  they  will 
sooner  or  later  fall  a  sacrifice ! 

I  had  calculated  that  Russia  was  too  large  a 
body  to  make  part  of  the  European  system  which 


90 

I  had  recast,  and  of  which  France  was  the  centre. 
I  therefore  determined  to  exclude  her  from 
Europe,  that  she  might  not  disturb  the  unity  of 
my  system.  The  new  political  line  of  demarca- 
tion required  to  be  strong  enough  to  resist  the 
whole  weight  of  Russia.  That  country  was  to  be 
forced  back  within  the  limits  she  had  occupied  a 
hundred  years  ago. 

Nothing  but  the  immense  mass  of  my  empire 
could  have  been  vigorous  enough  to  attempt  such 
an  act  of  political  violence.  But  I  believe  it  was 
possible,  and  I  believe  it  to  be  the  only  means  of 
securing  the  world  from  the  Cossacks. 

To  succeed  in  this  plan  it  was  necessary  to  re- 
organise Poland  on  a  sound  basis,  and  to  beat  the 
Russians  in  order  to  force  them  to  accept  the  new 
frontier  that  was  to  be  traced  with  the  point  of 
the  sword. — Russia  might  without  disgrace  have 
accepted  the  peace  which  was  to  fix  these  fron- 
tiers, because  there  was  nothing  offensive  to  her 
in  the  arrangement.  It  was  an  avowal  of  her 
strength  and  of  our  fear. 

Thus  placed  by  my  precautions  without  the 
European  pale — separated  from  our  common- 
wealth by  300,000  guardians,  Russia  might  have 
united  with  England.  She  would  have  preserved 
her  political  independence  and  her  national  ex- 
istence in  all  their  integrity;  because  she  would 


91 

have  been  as  much  out  of  our  way  as  the  kingdom 
of  Thibet. 

This  was  the  only  rational  plan.  Sooner  or 
later  its  ruin  will  be  regretted:  for  Europe,  ar- 
ranged by  mutual  consent  in  a  uniform  system, 
re-cast  on  the  model  required  by  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  would  have  offered  the  grandest  spectacle 
that  history  had  ever  presented.  But  too  many 
interested  prejudices  blinded  the  eyes  of  its  sove- 
reigns to  allow  them  to  perceive  the  danger 
where  it  really  existed.  They  fancied  they  saw  it 
where  the  only  safeguard  could  arise. 

I  set  out  for  Dresden.  This  war  was  to  decide 
irrevocably  on  the  question  which  had  been  de- 
bated for  twenty  years ;  it  was  to  be  the  last :  for 
beyond  Eussia  the  world  ends.  Our  enemies  had 
but  a  moment:  they  therefore  made  a  last  effort. 
The  court  of  Austria  began  with  deranging  my 
plans  for  Poland,  by  refusing  to  give  up  her  share 
of  it.  I  fancied  myself  obliged  to  keep  up  ap- 
pearances with  regard  to  her,  and  that  instance 
of  weakness  ruined  my  scheme:  for  from  the  mo- 
ment I  yielded  that  point  it  was  impossible  to  set 
openly  about  the  independence  of  Poland.  I  was 
obliged  to  portion  out  the  country  on  which  the 
safety  of  Europe  was  to  depend.  By  this  weak- 
ness I  spread  distrust  and  discontent  among  the 
Poles.  They  saw  that  I  sacrificed  them  to  my 


92 

own  convenience.  I  felt  my  error,  and  was 
ashamed  of  it.  I  refrained  from  going  to  War- 
saw, because  I  had  nothing  then  to  do  there.  I 
had  nothing  now  to  depend  on  for  the  future  fate 
of  the  Polish  nation  but  the  victories  I  might  ob- 
tain. 

I  knew  that  boldness  often  ensures  success.  I 
thought  it  might  be  possible  to  do  in  one  campaign 
what  I  had  intended  to  have  done  in  two.  This 
haste  pleased  me — for  my  temper  had  become  anx- 
ious and  impatient.  I  was  at  the  head  of  an  army 
which  knew  no  feeling  but  that  of  glory— no  home 
but  a  field  of  battle.  Instead  of  making  sure  of 
my  ground,  and  advancing  by  gradual  but  cer- 
tain steps,  I  traversed  Poland  and  crossed  the  Nie- 
men.  I  beat  the  armies  that  opposed  me;  I 
marched  on  without  a  halt,  and  I  entered  Moscow. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  my  good  fortune.  It 
should  have  been  the  last  of  my  life. 

Master  of  a  capital  that  the  Russians  had  left 
me  in  ashes,— I  might  have  hoped  that  they 
would  acknowledge  themselves  beaten,  and  accept 
the  advantageous  terms  of  peace  I  offered.  But, 
at  that  moment,  fortune  abandoned  our  cause. 
England  brought  about  a  peace  between  Russia 
and  the  Sublime  Porte,  which  gave  Russia  the 
disposal  of  her  whole  force.  A  Frenchman  whom 
chance  had  raised  to  the  throne  of  Sweden  be- 


93 

trayed  the  interests  of  his  country,  and  allied  him- 
self with  its  enemies  in  hopes  of  bartering  Fin- 
land for  Norway. 

He  himself  traced  out  the  Eussian  plan  of  de- 
fence ;  and  England  prevented  the  court  of  Peters- 
burg from  accepting  peace.  I  was  astonished  at 
the  delay  of  its  conclusion.  The  season  was  ad- 
vancing. It  became  evident  that  there  was  no  in- 
tention of  peace.  The  moment  I  was  sure  of  this, 
I  gave  orders  for  a  retreat.  The  elements  ren- 
dered it  severe.  The  French  acquired  honour  by 
the  firmness  with  which  they  supported  their  re- 
verses. Their  courage  never  left  them  but  with 
their  life ! 

Shocked  myself  at  their  disasters,  I  was  ob- 
liged to  recollect  that  a  sovereign  ought  never 
either  to  bend  or  weep. 

Europe  was  still  more  astonished  at  my  mis- 
fortunes than  it  had  been  at  my  success.  But  I 
was  not  to  be  deceived  by  its  apparent  stupor.  I 
had  lost  the  half  of  that  army  which  had  over- 
awed it.  It  might  hope  to  overcome  the  remainder, 
for  the  proportions  of  our  forces  were  altered. 
I  foresaw,  therefore,  that  the  moment  the  first 
surprise  was  over,  I  should  again  find  the  eternal 
coalition  in  arms;  its  shouts  of  joy  had  already 
reached  me. 

The  moment  of  defeat  is  an  unfavourable  one 


94 

for  the  conclusion  of  peace.  However,  Austria, 
who  was  comforted  for  my  humiliation,  because 
by  it  her  share  of  our  alliance  became  more  val- 
uable, Austria  proposed  peace.  She  offered  her 
mediation:  it  was  refused:  she  had  thrown  away 
her  credit. 

I  must  therefore  again  be  victorious:  I  felt 
sure  of  being  so  when  I  perceived  that  the  public 
feeling  of  France  went  along  with  me.  Never  did 
history  present  a  great  people  in  a  fairer  light  :— 
afflicted  at  their  losses,  but  eager  to  repair  them. 
In  three  months  it  was  done.  This  single  fact  is 
a  sufficient  answer  to  the  clamours  of  such  as  feel 
no  triumph  but  in  the  disasters  of  their  country. 

France  perhaps  owes  to  me,  in  part,  the  proud 
station  she  maintained  in  her  hour  of  misfortune ; 
and  if  in  my  whole  career  there  is  a  time  which 
deserves  the  esteem  of  posterity,  it  is  that,  for  it 
was  most  painful  to  bear. 

I  appeared  then  at  the  opening  of  the  cam- 
paign as  formidable  as  ever.  The  enemy  was  sur- 
prised at  the  sudden  re-appearance  of  my  eagles : 
the  army  I  commanded  was  more  warlike  than  ac- 
customed to  war;  but  it  was  the  heir  of  a  long 
series  of  glory,  and  I  led  it  up  to  the  enemy  with 
confidence.  I  had  a  great  task  to  perform,  to  re- 
establish our  military  credit,  and  to  renew  the 
struggle  which  had  been  so  near  its  conclusion.  I 


95 

still  possessed  Italy,  Holland,  and  most  of 
the  states  of  Germany.  I  had  lost  but  little 
ground;  but  England  redoubled  her  efforts. 
Prussia  waged  an  insurgent  war  against  us.  The 
princes  of  the  confederation  were  ready  to  join 
the  strongest,  and  as  I  still  continued  so,  they  fol- 
lowed my  standard,  though  languidly.  Austria  at- 
tempted to  maintain  a  neutral  dignity,  while  G-er- 
many  was  overrun  with  fire-brands,  who  spirited 
up  the  people  against  us.  My  whole  system  tot- 
tered. 

The  fate  of  the  world  depended  on  chance ;  for 
there  was  no  plan.  A  battle  would  decide  it 
Russia  was  to  fight  this  battle,  because  she  was 
strong  and  in  earnest. 

I  attacked  the  Prusso-Bussian  army,  and  I 
beat  it  three  times. 

As  my  success  deranged  the  plans  of  the  fa- 
vourites of  England,  they  affected  to  abandon  all 
hostile  intentions,  and  commissioned  Austria  to 
propose  peace. 

The  conditions  were,  in  appearance,  support- 
able, and  many  others  in  my  place  would  have  ac- 
cepted them.  For  they  only  demanded  the  resti- 
tution of  the  Illyrian  provinces  and  the  Hanse 
towns;  the  nomination  of  independent  sovereigns 
in  Italy  and  Holland;  the  evacuation  of  Spain, 
and  the  restoration  of  the  Pope  to  Borne.  They 


96 

were  to  have  treated  for  the  renunciation  of  the 
confederation  of  the  Rhine  and  the  mediation  of 
Switzerland;  but  they  were  permitted  to  yield 
these  two  articles. 

I  must  have  been  greatly  lowered  in  public 
opinion,  since  they  dared,  after  three  victories, 
to  ask  me  to  give  up  countries  that  they  had  not 
yet  even  ventured  to  threaten. 

If  I  had  consented  to  this  peace,  the  fall  of  the 
empire  would  have  been  more  sudden  than  its  rise. 
By  the  map,  indeed,  it  would  still  have  been  great; 
but,  in  fact,  it  would  have  been  nothing.  Austria, 
by  taking  upon  herself  the  office  of  mediatrix, 
broke  through  our  alliance,  and  united  herself  to 
the  enemy.  By  restoring  the  Hanse  towns,  I 
should  have  shewn  that  I  could  give  back  my  pos- 
sessions, and  every  body  would  have  been  for  sim- 
ilar restitutions;  I  should  have  caused  insurrec- 
tions in  every  country.  By  evacuating  Spain,  I 
should  have  encouraged  every  species  of  resist- 
ance. By  resigning  the  iron  crown,  I  should  have 
compromised  that  of  the  empire.  The  chances  of 
peace  were  all  against  me;  those  of  war  might, 
perhaps,  save  me. 

To  say  the  truth,  too  great  successes,  and  too 
great  reverses,  had  marked  the  course  of  my  his- 
tory, to  make  it  possible  for  me  to  put  off  the  de- 
cision to  another  day.  The  great  Revolution  of 


97 

the  19th  century  must  either  be  accomplished  ir- 
revocably, or  be  buried  under  a  mountain  of  the 
dead.  The  whole  world  was  present  to  decide  the 
question.  Had  I  signed  peace  at  Dresden,  I 
should  have  left  it  undecided,  and  it  must  have 
come  forward  a  little  later.  I  must  have  recom- 
menced the  long  career  of  success,  that  I  had  al- 
ready gone  through;  I  must  have  recommenced 
it,  although  my  youth  was  gone — My  empire,  to 
which  I  had  promised  rest,  was  wearied  of  the 
war,  and  ready  to  blame  me  for  not  accepting 
peace. 

It  was  better,  however,  to  take  advantage  of 
this  critical  moment,  when  the  fate  of  the  world 
depended  upon  the  issue  of  a  single  battle;  for, 
had  I  been  victorious,  the  world  would  have  been 
mine  again. 

I  refused  peace. — As  every  one  prefers  seeing 
with  his  own  eyes,  Austria  saw  nothing  but  my 
imprudence,  and  thought  the  moment  favourable 
for  going  over  to  the  enemy.  I  was  not,  however, 
certain  of  this  defection,  till  the  very  last  mo- 
ment; but  I  was  well  able  to  sustain  it.— My  plan 
for  the  campaign  was  fixed.  Its  result  would 
have  been  decisive. 

The  worst  of  great  armies  is,  that  the  general 
cannot  be  every  where.  My  manoeuvres  were,  I 
think,  the  very  best  I  had  ever  combined;  but 


98 

General  Vandamme  quitted  his  post,  and  was 
taken.  Eager  to  make  himself  a  Marshal  of  the 
Empire,  M' Donald  nearly  drowned  himself  in  the 
land-floods;— Marshal  Ney  let  himself  be  quietly 
beaten: — My  plan  was  overthrown,  in  a  very  few 
hours. 

I  was  beaten; — I  gave  orders  for  a  retreat; — 
I  was  still  strong  enough  to  act  offensively,  by 
changing  my  ground ; — I  did  not  choose  to  lose  the 
advantage  of  all  the  places  I  occupied;  for,  by  a 
single  victory,  I  should  still  have  been  master  of 
the  North,  as  far  as  Dantzick;  I  therefore  rein- 
forced all  my  garrisons,  with  orders  to  hold  out  to 
the  last.  They  obeyed  my  orders. 

I  retired,  slowly,  with  a  large  body  of  troops; 
but  still  I  retired,  and  the  enemy  followed,  in- 
creasing at  every  step,  for  nothing  fills  the  ranks 
like  success.  All  the  hatred  that  time  had  treas- 
ured up  burst  forth  at  once.  The  Germans  re- 
volted to  be  revenged  for  the  evils  of  war— the 
moment  was  propitious ;  I  was  beaten.  As  I  fore- 
saw, the  enemy  appeared  to  spring  out  of  the 
earth.  I  awaited  them  at  Leipzig,  on  those  very 
plains  where  they  had  been  beaten  just  before. 

Our  position  was  not  good,  because  we  were  at- 
tacked in  a  semi-circle.  Victory  itself  could  be 
of  little  use  to  us.  In  fact,  the  first  day  we  had 
the  advantage;  but  were  unable  to  renew  the  at- 


99 


tack.  It  was  a  drawn  battle,  and  we  had  to  begin 
again.  The  army  fought  well,  in  spite  of  fatigue ; 
but  then,  by  an  act  which  posterity  will  designate 
as  it  pleases,  the  allies,  who  were  in  our  ranks, 
turned  suddenly  against  us,  and  we  were  con- 
quered. 

We  set  out  for  France ;  but  so  mighty  a  retreat 
could  not  be  conducted  without  disorder:  exhaus- 
tion and  hunger  destroyed  many  of  our  men.  The 
Bavarians,  after  having  deserted  from  our  stand- 
ard, attempted  to  cut  off  our  retreat  into  France. 
The  French  marched  over  their  dead  bodies,  and 
gained  Mayence.  This  retreat  cost  us  as  many 
men  as  that  from  Russia. 

Our  losses  were  so  tremendous,  that  I  myself 
was  appalled.  The  nation  was  overwhelmed.  If 
the  enemy  had  pursued  their  march,  they  would 
have  entered  Paris  with  our  rear  guard:  but  the 
sight  of  France  dismayed  them:  they  long  looked 
at  our  frontiers  before  they  dared  to  pass  them. 

The  question  was  no  longer  glory,  but  the  hon- 
our of  France:  I  therefore  relied  on  the  French. 
But  I  was  unfortunate ;  I  was  ill  served.  I  do  not 
accuse  the  people;  they  are  always  ready  to  shed 
their  blood  for  their  country.  I  accuse  no  one  of 
treachery,  for  it  is  more  difficult  to  betray  than 
people  believe.  I  only  accuse  that  despondency 
which  is  the  result  of  misfortune:  I  was  not  free 


100 

from  it  myself.  He  who  is  discouraged  is  unde- 
cided, because  he  perceives  before  him  only  a 
choice  of  evils;  and  indecision  is  the  worst  of  ills 
in  matters  of  importance. 

I  ought  to  have  distrusted  this  general  de- 
gradation more,  and  to  have  looked  to  every  thing 
myself.  But  I  depended  on  a  frightened  ministry, 
which  did  every  thing  ill.  The  fortresses  were 
neither  repaired  nor  provided,  for  they  had  not 
been  threatened  for  twenty  years.  The  zeal  of  the 
peasants  victualled  them;  but  the  greater  part  of 
the  commandants  were  old  invalids,  who  had 
been  sent  to  them  for  repose.  Most  of  my  prefects 
were  timid,  and  thought  of  packing  up  their  goods 
instead  of  defending  them.  I  ought  to  have 
changed  them  in  time,  that  none  but  brave  men 
might  have  appeared  in  my  front  ranks,  if,  indeed, 
such  are  to  be  found  among  those  who  have  any 
thing  to  lose. 

Nothing  was  as  yet  ready  for  our  defence, 
when  the  Swiss  gave  up  to  the  allies  the  passage 
across  the  Rhine.  Notwithstanding  their  victories, 
the  enemy  had  not  dared  to  advance  boldly;  they 
crept  on  with  caution:  they  were  alarmed  at 
marching  without  resistance  through  a  country 
they  had  conceived  to  be  so  thick  set  with  bayo- 
nets. They  did  not  meet  our  advanced  guard  till 
they  reached  Langres:  then  began  that  campaign 


101 

which  is  too  well  known  to  need  repetition;  but 
which  has  left  an  immortal  name  to  the  handful  of 
brave  men  who  would  not  despair  of  the  salva- 
tion of  France.  They  restored  me  to  confidence; 
and  three  times  I  believed  that  nothing  was  im- 
possible with  such  soldiers. 

I  had  still  an  army  in  Italy,  and  strong  gar- 
risons in  the  north;  but  I  had  no  time  to  call 
them  up :  I  must  conquer  on  the  spot.  The  fate  of 
Europe  hung  on  my  person ;  there  was  not  an  im- 
portant point  but  that  on  which  I  stood. 

So  doubtful  were  the  allies  of  success,  that 
they  offered  me  peace.  After  having  refused  it  at 
Dresden,  I  could  not  accept  it  at  Chatillon.  Be- 
fore I  could  make  peace  I  must  save  France,  and 
reinstate  our  eagles  on  the  Rhine. 

After  such  a  proof,  our  army  would  have  been 
held  invincible:  our  enemies  would  have  trembled 
at  the  fatality  which  gave  me  victory.  Still  mas- 
ter of  the  south,  and  of  the  north  by  my  garri- 
sons, a  single  battle  would  restore  my  ascendancy ; 
and  I  should  have  had  the  glory  of  reverses,  as 
well  as  that  of  victory. 

This  result  was  prepared;  my  manoeuvres  had 
succeeded:  the  enemy  was  turned:  he  was  losing 
himself.  A  general  action  would  have  ended  every 
thing.  One  moment  more— but  my  fall  was  fated: 
a  dispatch  which  I  had  imprudently  sent  to  the 


102 

empress  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  allies ;  it  shewed 
them  their  danger.  A  Corsican  who  happened  to  be 
in  their  council  shewed  them  that  prudence  was 
more  dangerous  than  boldness.  They  took  the  only 
measure  which  I  had  not  foreseen,  because  it  was 
the  only  good  one.  They  outstripped  me,  and 
marched  upon  Paris. 

They  had  received  promises  that  their  en- 
trance should  be  favoured ;  but  this  promise  would 
have  been  unavailing,  if  I  had  left  the  defence  of 
the  capital  in  better  hands.  I  had  confided  in  the 
honour  of  the  nation,  and  I  had  madly  left  those 
at  liberty  who  I  knew  were  without  it.  I  arrived 
too  late  with  succours,  and  that  city,  which  has 
never  defended  either  its  monarchs  or  its  walls, 
had  opened  its  gates  to  the  strangers. 

I  accused  General  Marmont  of  having  betrayed 
me :  I  now  do  him  justice :  no  soldier  betrayed  the 
fidelity  he  owed  his  country;  such  wretches  were 
found  among  a  different  class.  But  I  was  not 
master  of  myself,  nor  of  my  grief,  when  I  saw  the 
capitulation  of  Paris  signed  by  my  ancient  brother 
in  arms. 

The  cause  of  the  revolution  was  no  more  from 
the  moment  I  was  conquered.  It  was  neither  the 
royalists,  nor  the  cowards,  nor  the  malcontents, 
who  had  overthrown  me.  The  allies  were  the  mas- 


103 

ters  of  the  world,  since  I  was  no  longer  able  to 
dispute  the  title  with  them. 

I  was  at  Fontainbleau,  surrounded  by  a  small 
but  faithful  band.  I  might  have  tried  the  chance 
of  battle  with  it  still,  for  it  was  capable  of  heroic 
actions.  But  France  would  have  paid  too  dear  for 
the  pleasure  of  revenge.  She  would  have  justly 
had  to  accuse  me  of  her  sufferings.  I  wish  her  to 
have  nothing  to  accuse  me  of  but  the  glory  to 
which  I  raised  her  name.  I  was  resigned. 

They  proposed  different  acts  of  abdication  to 
me;  I  felt  this  to  be  a  mummery.  I  had  abdicated 
on  the  day  on  which  I  was  conquered.  But  the 
formula  might  one  day  be  of  use  to  my  son.  I 
did  not  hesitate  about  signing  it. 

A  numerous  party  would  have  wished  that  in- 
fant to  be  placed  upon  the  throne,  that  the  revo- 
lution might  be  maintained,  together  with  my  dy- 
nasty. But  the  thing  was  impossible.  Even  the 
allies  had  no  choice.  They  were  obliged  to  recal 
the  Bourbons.  Every  one  boasted  of  having 
brought  about  their  restoration :  but  it  was  forced. 
It  was  the  immediate  consequence  of  the  princi- 
ples for  which  they  had  been  fighting  for  twenty 
years.  By  assuming  the  crown,  I  had  placed  the 
throne  out  of  the  reach  of  the  mob.  By  restoring 
it  to  the  Bourbons,  they  placed  it  out  of  the  reach 
of  a  fortunate  soldier.  It  was  the  only  means  of 


104 

putting  out  the  revolutionary  fire  for  ever.  The 
putting  any  other  sovereign  on  the  throne  of 
France  would  have  been  a  solemn  recognition  of 
the  principle  of  the  revolution ;  in  other  words,  an 
act  of  insanity  on  the  part  of  the  sovereigns. 

I  will  say  more:  the  return  of  the  Bourbons 
was  a  blessing  to  France.  It  saved  her  from  an- 
archy; and  promised  repose,  because  it  ensured 
peace.  It  was  necessary  between  the  allies  and  the 
Bourbons,  because  they  guaranteed  each  other. 
France  was  not  a  party  in  that  peace;  because  it 
was  not  made  in  her  favour,  but  in  favour  of  a 
family  that  it  suited  the  allies  to  replace  on  the 
throne.  It  was  a  treaty  intended  to  satisfy  every 
body.  Therefore  it  was  the  best  manner  in  which 
France  could  have  risen  from  the  greatest  defeat 
ever  sustained  by  a  warlike  nation. 

I  was  a  prisoner,  and  expected  to  be  treated  as 
such ;  but  either  from  that  kind  of  respect  inspired 
by  a  veteran  warrior,  or  from  the  spirit  of  gen- 
erosity which  pervaded  this  revolution,  they  al- 
lowed me  to  choose  an  asylum.  The  allies  granted 
me  an  island,  and  a  title,  that  they  regarded  as 
equally  vain.  They  permitted  me  (and  in  so  do- 
ing their  generosity  was  truly  noble)  to  take  with 
me  a  small  number  of  those  ancient  soldiers  with 
whom  I  had  passed  through  such  various  fortune. 


105 

They  permitted  me  to  take  a  few  of  those  men 
whom  misfortune  cannot  discourage. 

Separated  from  my  wife  and  child,  against 
every  law  divine  and  human,  I  retired  to  the  Isle 
of  Elba,  without  any  kind  of  project  for  the  fu- 
ture. I  had  become  a  mere  spectator  of  the  age. 
But  I  knew,  better  than  any  man,  into  what  hands 
Europe  was  about  to  fall;  and  I  therefore  knew 
that  it  would  be  guided  by  chance;  the  turns  of 
such  a  chance  might  bring  me  again  into  play. 
But  the  want  of  power  to  contribute  towards  it 
prevented  me  from  forming  any  plans,  and  I  lived 
like  a  stranger  to  the  story.  But  the  tide  of 
events  rolled  on  more  rapidly  than  I  had  expect- 
ed, and  it  came  upon  me  in  my  retreat. 

I  received  the  daily  papers:  I  learned  from 
them  the  external  state  of  affairs.  I  tried  to  seize 
their  spirit,  through  the  mist  of  false  representa- 
tions. 

It  was  evident  to  me  that  the  king  had  discov- 
ered the  secret  of  the  age.  He  had  discovered  that 
France  had  chosen  the  revolution.  He  had  dis- 
covered by  five  and  twenty  years  experience  that 
his  party  was  too  weak  to  resist  the  majority.  He 
knew  that  the  majority  will  always  make  the  law. 
He  must  therefore  reign  with  the  majority,  that 
is,  by  and  with  the  revolution.  But  that  he  might 
not  become  a  revolutionist  himself,  the  king  was 


106 

obliged  to  remodel  the  revolution  by  virtue  of  the 
divine  right  which  he  inherited. 

The  idea  was  ingenious ;  it  made  the  Bourbons 
revolutionists  with  a  safe  conscience,  and  made 
the  revolutionists  royalists  by  supporting  their 
interests  and  opinions.  There  was  to  be  but  one 
heart  and  one  soul  in  the  nation.  The  phrase  was 
in  every  mouth,  but  it  could  not  be  true. 

There  was,  however,  so  much  felicity  in  this 
combination,  that  France  under  its  reign  would 
have  been  flourishing  in  a  very  few  years.  The 
king,  by  a  single  stroke  of  the  pen,  might  have 
solved  the  problem  for  which  I  had  been  fighting 
for  twenty  years ;  since  he  might  have  established 
the  new  political  economy  of  France,  and  caused  it 
to  be  recognised  without  dissent  by  all  Europe.  In 
order  to  succeed,  the  only  requisite  art  was  that  of 
knowing  how  to  be  master  at  home. 

To  bring  about  this  great  work,  the  king  had 
granted  a  charter,  cast  in  the  mould  of  all  other 
charters.  It  was  excellent — they  are  all  excellent 
when  they  are  put  in  practice.  But  as  charters  are 
only  skins  of  parchment,  they  are  of  no  value  but 
by  the  authority  which  takes  their  execution  upon 
itself.  Now  this  authority  resided  no  where:  in- 
stead of  concentrating  it  in  the  only  responsible 
hands,  the  king  allowed  it  to  be  frittered  away 
among  the  party  which  was  called  by  his  name. 


107 

Instead  of  being  the  sole  head  of  the  state,  he  al- 
lowed himself  to  be  made  the  head  of  a  party; 
every  thing  in  France  assumed  a  factious  appear- 
ance. Anarchy  appeared. 

From  that  moment  there  was  nothing  but  in- 
consistency and  contradiction  in  the  court. 
Words  never  agreed  with  things,  because  the 
courtiers  in  their  hearts  wished  for  things  differ- 
ent from  those  which  existed. 

The  king  had  granted  the  charter  that  it  might 
not  be  forced  from  him;  but  it  was  evident  that 
the  royalists  hoped  to  unravel  it  thread  by  thread, 
because  in  truth  it  did  not  suit  them. 

They  had  only  therefore  erected  temporary 
piers  for  the  arch  of  government;  they  had  re- 
modelled the  nobility,  but  they  had  given  it  neither 
privilege  nor  power.  It  was  not  democratic,  for 
it  was  exclusive ;  it  was  not  aristocratic,  for  it  was 
a  cypher  in  the  state:  it  was,  therefore,  an  injury  to 
the  nobility  to  have  re-established  it  on  such  a 
footing ;  for  they  had  set  it  up  to  be  attacked,  be- 
cause it  was  offensive,  without  giving  it  the  means 
of  defence.  This  was  an  absurdity  which  could 
not  but  lead  to  continual  strife. 

They  attempted  to  remodel  the  clergy,  but  they 
chose  an  apostate  bishop  to  re-establish  the  throne 
and  the  altar.  They  attempted  to  expunge  the 


108 

memory  of  the  revolution — but  they  dug  up  its 
dead  bodies. 

They  tried  to  make  the  revolution  of  89  accept- 
able to  the  royalists,  and  the  counter-revolution 
of  the  31st  March  to  the  ex-conventionalists.  Both 
attempts  were  ineffectual ;  for  revolutions  will  suit 
none  but  those  who  have  gone  along  with  their 
spirit,  and  were  born  in  it.  The  king  should  have 
had  no  man  older  than  twenty  about  him. 

They  attempted  to  maintain  the  revolution, 
while  they  debased  its  institutions.  Therefore 
they  disheartened  the  bulk  of  the  nation,  which 
had  grown  up  with  them,  and  was  accustomed  to 
respect  them. 

They  retained  my  soldiers,  because  they  were 
afraid  of  them;  and  they  had  them  reviewed  by 
men  who  talked  of  glory  while  they  bowed  to  the 
Cossacks. 

There  was  no  confidence  in  the  existing  state 
of  things,  because  there  was  no  visible  centre  of 
action.  There  was  none  in  public  interest,  for  it 
was  compromised;  nor  in  opinion,  for  it  was 
crushed;  nor  in  power,  because  there  seemed  to 
be  neither  head  nor  hands  at  the  summit  of  af- 
fairs. 

I  was  tolerably  well  informed  of  all  that  passed 
at  Vienna :  at  that  congress  where  they  were  amus- 


109 

ing  themselves  with  apeing  me.  I  learned,  in  good 
time,  that  the  ministers  of  France  had  persuaded 
the  congress  to  take  me  off  the  Isle  of  Elba,  and 
to  exile  me  to  St.  Helena.  It  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  I  believed  the  Emperor  of  Russia  would 
consent  to  such  a  violation  of  the  faith  of  treaties ; 
for  I  always  esteemed  his  character  highly ;  but  at 
length,  I  became  satisfied  that  it  was  so,  and  I  set 
about  measures  for  avoiding  the  destiny  they  were 
preparing  for  me. 

My  feeble  means  of  defence  would  soon  have 
been  exhausted;  I  had  therefore  to  endeavour  to 
create  such  as  might  make  me,  a  second  time^  for- 
midable to  my  enemies. 

France  had  no  confidence  in  her  government. 
The  government  had  as  little  in  France.  The  na- 
tion had  found  that  its  interest  was  not  that  of 
the  crown,  that  that  of  the  crown  was  no  less  at 
variance  with  it.  It  was  mutual  treachery,  which 
could  not  fail  to  ruin  one  or  other  of  the  parties. 
It  was  time  to  prevent  it,  and  I  conceived  a  plan, 
which  will  appear  bold  in  history;  but  which,  in 
fact,  was  very  reasonable. 

I  aspired  to  re-ascend  the  throne  of  France. 
However  weak  my  resources,  they  were  superior 
to  those  of  the  royalists:  for  the  honour  of  the 


110 

country  was  my  ally,  a  feeling  which  never  dies  in 
the  heart  of  the  French. 

I  relied  on  that  support.  I  reviewed  the  dimin- 
utive force,  which  I  destined  for  so  great  an  en- 
terprise. The  soldiers  were  ill  clothed,  for  I  had 
not  wherewithal  to  clothe  them  anew,  but  their 
hearts  were  firm. 

My  preparations  were  not  long,  for  I  carried 
nothing  but  arms  with  me.  I  relied  on  the  French 
for  furnishing  us  with  every  thing.  The  English 
officer,  who  resided  with  me,  was  amusing  himself 
at  Leghorn,  and  I  set  sail  with  a  favourable  wind. 

Our  little  flotilla  met  with  no  accident;  our 
passage  lasted  five  days.  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
coast  of  France  at  nearly  the  same  spot  on  which 
I  had  landed  fifteen  years  before,  on  my  return 
from  Egypt. — Fortune  seemed  to  smile  as  she  did 
then;  I  returned  as  at  that  time  to  that  land  of 
glory,  to  raise  her  fallen  eagles,  and  to  win  back 
her  independence. 

I  landed  without  an  obstacle.  I  found  myself 
once  more  in  France.  I  had  come  back  in  misfor- 
tune. My  train  consisted  of  a  small  number  of 
friends  and  brothers  in  arms,  who  had  partaken 
of  good  and  ill  fortune  with  me;  but  this  was  a 
claim  on  the  respect  and  love  of  the  French. 

I  had  no  settled  plan,  because  I  had  only  vague 
notions  on  the  state  of  things.  I  intended  to  be 


Ill 

decided  by  circumstances.    I  had  only  taken  some 
resolutions  for  probable  occurrences. 

I  had  but  one  road  to  take,  because  I  wanted 
a  strong  hold.  Grenoble  was  the  nearest  fortress ; 
I  therefore  marched  towards  Grenoble,  as  quickly 
as  possible  because  I  wished  to  ascertain  what  I 
had  to  depend  on.  The  reception  I  met  with  on 
my  road  surpassed  my  expectations,  and  con- 
firmed my  intentions.  I  saw  that  that  portion  of 
the  people,  which  was  not  corrupted  by  passion  or 
interest,  retained  a  proud  feeling,  which  was 
wounded  by  their  humiliation. 

I  at  length  discovered  the  first  troops  that  were 
sent  against  me.  They  were  my  own  soldiers — I 
advanced  without  fear,  for  I  knew  they  would 
never  dare  to  fire  upon  me.  They  saw  their  Em- 
peror marching  at  the  head  of  their  old  masters 
in  the  art  of  war,  who  had  so  long  shewed  them 
the  way  to  victory.  I  was  still  the  same,  for  I 
brought  back  independence  along  with  my  eagles. 

Who  could  for  a  moment  believe  that  French 
soldiers  would  hesitate  between  official  oaths  taken 
on  the  banners  of  a  stranger,  and  the  faith  they 
had  sworn  to  one  who  had  come  to  free  their  coun- 
try? 

The  people  and  the  soldiers  received  me  with 
the  same  shouts  of  joy.  These  shouts  were  my 


only  escort,  but  they  were  better  than  any  splen- 
dour, for  they  promised  me  the  throne. 

I  expected  to  meet  with  some  resistance  from 
the  royalists;  but  I  was  mistaken:  they  made 
none,  and  I  entered  Paris  without  even  seeing  any 
of  them,  except,  perhaps,  at  the  windows.  There 
was  never  enterprise  so  rash,  in  appearance,  which 
cost  so  little  trouble  in  the  execution:  it  was  be- 
cause it  met  the  wishes  of  the  nation,  and  that 
every  thing  is  easy  which  goes  along  with  public 
opinion. 

This  Revolution  was  effected  in  twenty  days— 
without  costing  a  single  drop  of  blood.  The  as- 
pect of  France  was  changed.  The  royalists  fled 
for  help  to  the  allies.  The  nation,  left  to  itself,  re- 
sumed its  magnanimity.  It  was  free :  for,  by  plac- 
ing me  on  the  throne,  it  had  exercised  the  greatest 
act  of  spontaneous  power  to  which  the  people  can 
claim  a  right.  I  could  not  have  been  there  with- 
out its  consent,  for  my  six  hundred  men  could 
never  have  conquered  it.  I  was  no  longer  dread- 
ed as  a  prince,  but  beloved  as  a  saviour.  The 
greatness  of  my  enterprize  had  blotted  out  my 
misfortunes :  it  had  restored  the  confidence  of  the 
French;  I  was  once  more  the  man  of  their  choice. 

Never  did  a  whole  nation  throw  itself  with  so 
much  self-devotion  and  intrepidity  into  the  most 
perilous  situation :  it  calculated  neither  the  danger 


113 

nor  the  consequences.  It  was  the  love  of  inde- 
pendence that  animated  the  people,  to  whom  his- 
tory will  give  the  precedence  over  all  others. 

I  had  refused  the  treaty  of  Chatillon  because 
I  was  upon  the  throne  of  France,  and  it  would 
have  made  me  stoop  too  low.  But  I  might  accept 
that  granted  to  the  Bourbons,  because  I  had  just 
come  from  the  Isle  of  Elba ;  and  one  may  stop  as 
one  ascends,  but  never  as  one  is  coming  down. 

I  hoped  that  Europe,  astonished  at  my  return, 
and  at  the  energy  of  the  French  people,  would 
be  afraid  to  renew  the  war  with  a  nation  so  dar- 
ing, and  with  a  man  whose  single  character  was 
stronger  than  all  its  armies. 

This  would  have  been  the  case  had  the  con- 
gress been  dispersed,  and  had  we  treated  with  the 
princes  one  by  one.  But  their  pride  took  the 
alarm,  because  they  were  under  the  eye  of  each 
other ;  and  my  attempts  to  keep  the  peace  failed. 

I  ought  to  have  foreseen  this  result,  and  to  have 
availed  myself,  without  delay,  of  the  first  impulse 
of  the  people,  to  shew  how  formidable  we  might 
be.  The  enemy  would  have  been  dismayed  at  our 
boldness.  He  ascribed  my  hesitation  to  weakness. 
He  was  right;  for  I  was  no  longer  acting  in  char- 
acter. 

My  pacific  attitude  lulled  the  nation  to  sleep, 
because  I  had  allowed  it  to  believe  that  peace  was 


114 

possible ;  from  that  moment  my  system  of  defence 
was  overthrown,  because  the  means  of  resistance 
were  not  adequate  to  the  danger. 

The  only  means  of  procuring  revolutionary  re- 
sources would  have  been  to  begin  that  great  work 
anew ;  to  stir  up  the  passions  in  order  to  profit  by 
their  aberrations.  Nothing  less  could  have  saved 
France. 

I  should  have  only  had  to  regulate  a  second 
revolution  as  I  had  done  the  first;  but  I  never 
loved  popular  commotions,  because  there  is  no  rein 
to  lead  them  by;  and  I  deceived  myself  by  im- 
agining that  we  might  defend  Thermopylae  by 
loading  each  piece  with  a  dozen  cartridges. 

I  however  set  about  a  partial  revolution,  as  if 
I  had  not  been  aware  that  half-measures  are  good 
for  nothing !  I  offered  the  nation  liberty,  because 
it  had  complained  of  a  want  of  it  during  my  first 
reign.  This  liberty  produced  its  usual  effect;  it 
put  words  in  the  place  of  actions.  The  imperial- 
ists were  disgusted  because  I  shook  the  system  to 
which  they  had  attached  their  interest.  The  bulk 
of  the  nation  shrugged  their  shoulders,  for  they 
cared  very  little  about  liberty.  The  republicans 
distrusted  my  proceeding,  for  it  was  not  natural 
to  me. 

Thus,  I  myself  caused  disunion  in  the  state.  I 
perceived  it,  but  I  relied  on  the  war  for  a  remedy. 


115 

France  had  risen  again  with  so  much  magnanim- 
ity ;  she  had  shewn  such  contempt  for  the  future ; 
her  cause  was  so  just  (for  it  was  that  of  the  most 
sacred  rights  of  nations) ;  that  I  hoped  the  whole 
people  would  have  armed  themselves  by  a  spon- 
taneous movement  of  honour  and  indignation. 
But  it  was  too  late. 

I  felt  the  danger  of  my  situation.  I  calculated 
the  attack  and  the  defence:  they  bore  no  propor- 
tions. I  began  to  doubt  of  my  means:  that  it  was 
not  the  time  to  confess  it.  By  an  unfortunate 
chance,  my  health  was  deranged  as  the  crisis  ap- 
proached. My  body  was  in  a  state  of  suffering; 
my  mind  irresolute.  The  armies  advanced.  In 
mine,  the  soldiers  were  full  of  devotion  and  en- 
thusiasm; but  the  officers  felt  these  emotions  no 
longer.  They  were  wearied;  they  were  no 
longer  young ;  they  had  fought  long  enough :  they 
had  estates  and  palaces.  The  king  had  allowed 
them  to  retain  their  fortunes  and  their  places. 
They  were  now  like  adventurers  risking  them  anew 
with  me.  They  were  beginning  their  career  again ; 
and,  however  well  we  may  love  life,  no  man 
would  choose  to  live  over  again:  it  is  asking  too 
much  of  human  nature. 

I  set  out  for  head-quarters,  alone,  against  the 
world.  I  tried  to  fight  it.  Victory  was  faithful  to 
us  the  first  day ;  but  she  deceived  us  the  next.  We 


116 

were  overcome,  and  the  glory  of  our  arms  was  put 
out  on  the  same  field  where  it  was  kindled  twenty- 
three  years  before. 

I  might  still  have  defended  myself,  for  my  sol- 
diers would  not  have  deserted  me ;  but  they  waged 
war  against  me  alone.  They  called  upon  the 
French  to  give  me  up:  it  was  proposing  an  act  of 
cowardly  meanness,  in  order  to  force  them  to 
fight.  I  was  not  worth  so  great  a  sacrifice.  It 
was  my  part  to  give  myself  up.  I  had  no  choice.  I 
determined  to  surrender  myself.  I  hoped  they 
would  be  content  with  the  hostage  I  thus  placed 
in  their  hands,  and  that  they  would  put  the  crown 
upon  my  son's  head. 

I  believe  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  have 
placed  him  on  the  throne  in  1814:  but  I  think  it 
might  have  been  wise  in  1815.  I  do  not  give  my 
reasons — possibly  the  future  may  bring  them  to 
light. 

I  did  not  quit  France  till  the  enemy  ap- 
proached my  retreat.  As  long  as  none  but  French- 
men were  about  me,  I  chose  to  remain  among  them 
alone  and  unarmed.  It  was  the  last  proof  of  con- 
fidence and  affection  I  could  give  them.  It  was  a 
testimony  I  bore  to  them  in  the  face  of  the  world. 

France  respected  misfortune  in  my  person  to 
the  very  moment  in  which  I  quitted  her  shores  for 
ever.  I  might  have  gone  to  America,  and  exposed 


117 

my  defeat  in  the  new  world;  but  after  having 
reigned  over  France,  I  could  not  think  of  debas- 
ing her  throne  by  seeking  glory  elsewhere. 

A  prisoner  in  another  hemisphere,  I  have 
nothing  now  to  defend  but  the  reputation  His- 
tory is  preparing  for  me.  She  must  say  at  least, 
that  the  man  for  whom  a  whole  people  devoted  it- 
self, could  not  be  so  destitute  of  worth  as  some 
of  his  co-temporaries  assert. 


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